


All of the Ways

by LikeSatellites



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sugar Daddy, Baby Boy Changkyun, Daddy Kink, Light BDSM, M/M, Praise Kink, Spanking, daddy kihyun, mentions of past minor character death, past changkyun/shownu, past changkyun/wonho, tech startup office au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-03-10 22:51:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 49,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13511400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LikeSatellites/pseuds/LikeSatellites
Summary: “You want me to be your sugar daddy?”“You’re a business-minded guy, right? You don’t fall for your clients. It’s purely transactional. I give you the release you desperately--don’t look at me like that, you know it’s true--need, and you give me your fullest Business Daddy aesthetic.”“My what?”“Buy me things and tell me I’m cute and I’ll get on my knees for you every fucking day you want. You need to mellow out.”Changkyun joins as an intern at the SevenX tech startup and once again gives into his selfish, all-consuming baby boy urges.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/n: thanks for joining me again here, folks. I'm finally writing the Changki fic I've wanted to for years. Don't hate me. This is gonna be straight up filth. Find me on twitter @likesatellitez and please read my other fics! (and comment and kudo here thanks ily)

“Not to be rude or whatever,” Jooheon is saying as he steps into the lobby of their new office building and flashes his ID badge to the terribly sleepy and adorably portly security guard, “but how in the fuck did you get this internship?”

“I test surprisingly well. And people like me when I interview. It’s the lips,” Changkyun drawls, tapping his cupid’s bow with a tan index finger. 

“Part of me is offended and the other part is proud,” Jooheon replies, pulling Changkyun into the elevator and up to the 15th floor. There are ads for diamonds playing on the little screens in the elevator car. They’re near the diamond district. The tech company he’s about to intern with is worth hundreds of millions, and this building is nicer than any building he’s worked in before. “You know, on your first day, you’re usually meant to dress  _ up _ , not down.”

Changkyun glances down at his pink cable-knit sweater. It hangs over his hands to keep his fingers warm while typing. “Is it the sweater or the leather pants?”

Jooheon sighs as the elevator dings and the doors part. “All of it, just--all of it.”

Changkyun is herded to the office manager’s desk, where he’s sat on top of one of those yoga-ball chairs that makes you clench your core, and he cringes through a set of potential ID photos. 

“You guys know each other?” their office manager, a lithe little bleached blonde twink named Soonyoung asks, handing Changkyun a tote bag with their company logo  _ SevenX _ ironed onto the front. 

“We’re from the same school.”

“All the same schools,” Changkyun adds, tapping Jooheon’s arms like doughy, ivory piano keys. “Elementary, junior, high--”

“He gets it,” Jooheon cuts in. 

“We’re best friends,” Changkyun adds, as Jooheon shepherds him around massive long tables crammed with computer stations and employees bent over their keyboards like busy little gremlins. “Am I gonna be introduced to everyone or--”

“People are busy. I’ll show you where your desk is,” Jooheon says, as his AppleWatch lights up on his wrist. “Oh, fuck, it’s Mr. Lee. One second.” He brings the watch to his lips. “Yes, Mr. Lee. Sorry, I know you always say--ok,  _ Minhyuk _ \--I’m showing Changkyun around the office right now, but I’ll be right in. Okay, okay...be there soon.”

“Your boss called you,” Changkyun observes, glancing down the rows of tables to the large glass office at the end, “when he’s in the office right now. Right there.” Changkyun lifts his hand, and Jooheon swats at it. 

“He can see you,” Jooheon hisses.

“He can see you too. So why did he call your fuckin’ spy watch?”

“It’s easier. Listen, I gotta run. Soonyoung will get you set up at your station, okay?” Jooheon pats Changkyun on the top of his head and power-walks down the aisle of tables to Mr. Lee Minhyuk’s office, his wide, soft hips rocking from side-to-side. 

What a sweet honey bear.

Soonyoung hands Changkyun a new Macbook and shows him where he’ll sit, almost flush up against another intern in a long row of interns at one of the tables. The intern beside him is gigantic, his knees knocking against the table from underneath. 

“All the apps should be set up with your permissions, but if you need something, just email IT.”

Changkyun glances back at the row of tables behind him. “I can’t just ask them? They’re right there.”

Soonyoung blinks slowly. He hands Changkyun a complimentary beer. It’s some bourgeois IPA, with a little cartoon rabbit in a suit with a monocle on the label. From his other pocket, Soonyoung draws out a granola bar and also hands that to Changkyun. “Don’t get drunk before 4. That’s the rule. Let me know if you need anything else. I’ll be up front.”

“Should I email you?” Changkyun asks, joking, but Soonyoung shakes his head. 

“We use Google chat for most in-office conversations. Just chat me.” Soonyoung gives a little wave of his pale thin fingers and disappears. 

Changkyun turns to the intern beside him. “Hi, I’m--”

He has his headphones in. 

Changkyun turns back to his laptop. And pops open his beer. A little bit fizzes over the top, and Changkyun loudly slurps at it. Everyone around him turns to glare. Changkyun sheepishly ducks behind his laptop screen. 

A few hours later, Changkyun has almost figured out all ten new applications he’s meant to learn for this position, and Jooheon picks him up for lunch. 

“Okay,” Changkyun says, pausing in front of a closed office door. All the doors are full, thick panes of glass, almost magnifying what’s behind them. “Who the hell is that?”

Standing behind one of those absurd, heavy-plastic standing desks is who Changkyun would call:  _ Business Daddy _ . 

He’s the only one in the office that Changkyun has noticed wearing a blazer. It’s navy blue, a kind of thick tweed, too, with those sand-colored suede elbow patches. His hair is black, shiny in the natural light beaming through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows around his corner office. As Changkyun watches, he lifts the nib of a gold-tipped fountain pen to his tongue. 

“Who? Kihyun? He’s our head of operations. He’s not technically your boss, but he’s basically everyone’s boss,” Jooheon says, trying to tug Changkyun away so he’ll stop staring. “He’s very busy, so let’s--”

Kihyun glances away from his double-monitor computer setup and looks right at them. Right at Changkyun.

Changkyun’s loins twist into a pretzel and dip themselves in some kind of luxurious au jus. “I need him.”

“Changkyun,” Jooheon whines, yanking hard on Changkyun’s arm now, as if aiming to pull it from its socket like a ball-jointed doll limb, “please. Please don’t do this here. I let you go full power-slut back at school, you know? Live your truth, you know? But this is where I want to work when we graduate and--”

Changkyun licks at his lower lip the way he does when he’s decided he needs something. 

The way he once looked at a window-display of artisanal rose-colored macarons that he didn’t even really understand conceptually beyond that they looked beautiful. (Does it taste pink? Changkyun loves pink-flavored things). He’d gone to the shop-owner and said he  _ needed _ the little box of pink and purple macarons for his mom, you see, she’s in the hospital, and he [turned out his pockets] can’t afford them but  _ please, please _ . He’d been lying, and he didn’t know why it was bad, but he knew he needed something badly and had to get it.

It was the same way he looked at his older brother’s friend when he turned eighteen (because he was good, he was always  _ so good _ ). When he slid the pad of his finger over his plush bottom lip and lowered his lashes and put his warm, somewhat clammy palm onto his brother’s friend’s knee. When he said  _ I need it. Please, please _ . When his brother’s friend said “are you sure? This is kind of a big deal,” Changkyun had nodded and climbed into his lap on Changkyun’s parents’ soft brown leather sofa. 

He can’t help himself sometimes. It happens. And Changkyun doesn’t understand people who hold themselves back from things they want. If his body tells him he needs something like food, he provides it. That’s how humans live. 

He listens to his body. 

And, fuck, his body needs Kihyun. 

“Jooheon,” Changkyun says again. “I need to know everything about him. I need--”

Jooheon shoves an unwrapped TootsiePop into Changkyun’s mouth as he’s speaking. Changkyun nearly chokes. 

“Now you don’t need a dick in your stupid big mouth,” Jooheon replies, smug. “This is what people do when they need to grow up. They make compromises.”

“You’re not that much older than me,” Changkyun slurs around the lollipop. “And this is in no way the same as how good it feels to have the velvety weight of a gorgeous  _ thick _ \--”

Jooheon slaps the end of the white paper lollipop stick, and it hits the back of Changkyun’s throat with an unpleasant gurgling cough. Jooheon forces a calm smile onto his puffy little lips. 

“Now let’s discuss something safe for work, shall we? How are you finding the office environment?” 

Changkyun pouts and stirs a complimentary strawberry greek yogurt. 

He’ll have to do this all himself.  

 

It’s 7pm, and Kihyun hasn’t moved from his office. Jooheon left with his boss an hour ago to go to some kind of sales dinner. 

Changkyun sits at his station, watching Kihyun answer continuous calls on both his office and cell phone while also typing steadily for hours. His office is dark save for the bright white light of his computer screen. It makes his skin look ghastly. The bruises beneath his eyes are cast in deep, deep shadow. 

He’s been so busy he hasn’t even turned on a damn desk lamp. 

Changkyun heaves himself up from his swivel chair. The office is mostly empty now, except for a few software engineers still hunched over typing with thick headphones covering their ears. 

Changkyun slips into Kihyun’s office, and Kihyun also has headphones in, so he doesn’t notice. He finds a modern-design standing lamp in the corner of the office and steps on the floor button to flick the bulb on. The room bursts into light. 

Kihyun pulls his headphones out of his ears and stares at Changkyun like he’s a screaming child having a tantrum in a classy restaurant, throwing spaghetti sauce every which way.

“It’s bad for your eyes to stare at the screen in the dark like that,” Changkyun says, throat feeling weirdly tight as Kihyun looks at him. 

Kihyun pulls open the drawer under his desk and flips open a glasses case. He slides the glasses on, and they make his eyes look bigger, darker, and Changkyun shivers. 

“Is that why you came in?” Kihyun asks, and his voice is higher, lighter than Changkyun expected. He’s thin, and only Changkyun’s height. There’s nothing about Kihyun that is Changkyun’s usual type. All his exes have been jocks--massive, muscular guys with bodies like thick cuts of butcher steak. They commanded spaces with mass, with sheer intimidating  _ thickness _ . 

Kihyun is lithe, maybe even too thin for his height. Changkyun doesn’t think he’s seen Kihyun leave to eat all day. 

Changkyun reaches into his leather pants pocket and slides his complimentary granola bar across Kihyun’s desk toward him. 

Kihyun looks down at it. Then back up. “Who are you again?”

“Changkyun Im. I’m the new customer support intern.”

Kihyun sweeps the granola bar off his desk and into his top drawer. “Thanks, Changkyun Im. I need to get back to work now.”

“How old are you?”

Kihyun’s brows knit together, and his lips press tight. 

“Sorry, I’m not supposed to ask that, am I?”

Kihyun tips his head to the side, letting Changkyun continue to ramble as if it amuses him. His fingers are still hovering over his keyboard, his gaze flickering to his screen every few seconds to check for new emails. Changkyun wants to distract him.

Changkyun wants.

Changkyun wants Kihyun to want to look at him. 

Something in his gut shakes, knocking against his skin from the inside. It’s urgent. It’s gnawing. It has teeth hooked into him. 

These are mixed metaphors.

“I live alone,” Changkyun blurts, waving his sweater-paw arms around. 

That makes Kihyun look at him all right. Kihyun’s lips part in abject horror and confusion. He composes himself after a moment of the most awkward silence Changkyun has ever lived through, and he says, “Get home safely then, Changkyun” in that breathy, high tone voice.

Changkyun finds himself nodding. Finds himself quietly leaving Kihyun’s office. His legs feel like a not-fully-set mold of gelatin. He’s not quite liquid, not quite solid. 

His phone screen lights up, the device buzzing in his pocket. 

“Hyunwoo?” Changkyun asks, grabbing his coat from the back of his chair and making his way to the elevator bay to escape his shame. 

“I’m outside. I’m gonna take you home.”

Changkyun sighs. “Did you look up my office online to find the address?”

“No, your mom texted it to me. Meet me in the lobby of your building.” 

Changkyun gives one last look back at Kihyun in his office. Kihyun catches him looking, and his expression doesn’t change. Changkyun has never had to work very hard for something he wants. 

He’s never failed to get something he wants either. 

But Kihyun is going to be a challenge, he just knows it. 

 

“How was your first day?” Hyunwoo asks, wrapping a thick red wool scarf around Changkyun’s neck when he meets him down in the lobby. 

“God, don’t say it like that. Makes me sound like a preschooler or something,” Changkyun protests, tugging his gray knit beanie down over his ears as they step out onto the street together. 

“Sorry,” Hyunwoo replies, grabbing Changkyun’s backpack for him and pulling it onto his own back. “How was your big-boy job, big-boy?”

“Dear God,” Changkyun moans, throwing his hands up at the little sliver of starless sky that’s visible between the massive skyscrapers surrounding his office building. “It was  _ fine _ . It was weird, I don’t know!”

Hyunwoo waits until they make it down the subway stairs and scan their metrocards to ask, “Weird, how?” He lifts Changkyun’s backpack and adjusts the straps so they don’t cut into his beefy arms as he carries it. He looks like a dad carrying his son’s backpack after school.

To counter this thought, Changkyun says, “Do you remember when I asked you to take my virginity?” 

Hyunwoo chokes on air, coughing into the crook of his elbow politely until he recovers enough to speak. “Yes, I believe I remember that. When that happened.”

“Why did you say yes?” Changkyun asks, staring down at his scuffed Nike sneakers. 

“Changkyun,” Hyunwoo mutters, thick lips moving slow as he composes an answer, “we’re in public. What do you want me to say?”

“Did you want me, or did you just feel bad for me?” 

Hyunwoo pushes the small of Changkyun’s back to guide him into the crowded subway car. Changkyun grabs the metal pole and Hyunwoo grabs the spot of metal just above his hands. 

“I don’t know, Changkyun. You’re important to me. And, obviously you have this...effect on people.”

“So you  _ did _ want me?” 

Hyunwoo looks down at him with his deep-set hooded eyes and shrugs. “Yeah. I mean, of course. I wouldn’t have...done that...if I didn’t. You were also...very persuasive. And...persistent.”

Persuasive. Persistent. 

Changkyun files those away for later. 

“Why are you asking about this now, huh? That was years ago.” 

Someone jostles Changkyun from behind as the train comes to an abrupt stop in the tunnel, and Hyunwoo reaches out to steady him. 

“I’m on a path of self-discovery,” Changkyun replies. 

Hyunwoo doesn’t look like he quite believes Changkyun, but Hyunwoo also always looks perpetually lost. A big, soft, cuddly meatloaf. 

“I’m gonna call my mom and yell at her for asking you to pick me up, you know,” Changkyun says, as Hyunwoo waves goodbye to him at the front door of his apartment building. 

“I only live two stops away,” Hyunwoo says, shrugging off Changkyuns backpack and handing it over. “I like picking you up. It’s what your b--”

Changkyun kicks at Hyunwoo’s shin, and Hyunwoo shuts up. “Fine, whatever. Pick me up if you want.”

“I do,” Hyunwoo says, and he’s looking at Changkyun the way he does now when he knows Changkyun is hiding things from him. 

“I said fine. Now go, go, shoo!” Changkyun waves him away from his doorstep. “I have to go scribble in my diary because apparently I’m a child again.”

“Changkyun.”

Changkyun lifts his phone and flashes the screen through the glass door at Hyunwoo on the other side. “Look, the next train is coming in three minutes. Better run.”

Hyunwoo sighs and nods, jogging away from his door. 

Changkyun’s apartment is a little studio with room for just one double bed, one dresser, and a kitchenette consisting of one two-burner stovetop set into a single countertop, a college-size fridge, and a little wooden table stacked with his microwave and coffee machine. 

He throws his backpack down at the foot of his bed and climbs under the covers without turning the lights off. The darkness reminds him of the absolute shame he brought to his name earlier that day with Kihyun. 

Kihyun must be like Hyunwoo. Must think he’s some dumb kid with flighty whims. Someone to be patronized. Every guy Changkyun has ever been with has admitted that Changkyun can be very immature, very demanding. He doesn’t understand why asking for what you want is demanding. It isn’t as if he doesn’t give in return.

Changkyun tugs the duvet up over his head and whines aloud to himself. 

He texts his mom to tell her to stop sending Hyunwoo after him like a guard dog, and then he falls asleep. 

 

Changkyun shows up at the office early the next day, hoping to beat Kihyun there, but Kihyun is already there, sipping a small cup of espresso and typing while shouldering his cellphone against his ear. 

Today Changkyun is wearing a white button-down under a heathered gray blazer. He has his fake glasses on, the round ones that make him look like if Harry Potter were fuckable. 

Jooheon looks at him like he showed up having eaten his own face off. 

“What’s all this?” Jooheon gestures at the blazer, the glasses. 

“Proving to myself that I deserve it,” Changkyun says, purposefully cryptic. 

Jooheon clearly doesn’t believe him, but Changkyun doesn’t care. Jooheon’s watch lights up. Changkyun watches him read the tiny black screen before huffing exasperatedly. 

“I need to go.”

“Your Daddy’s callin’ you?” 

Jooheon’s cheeks flush deep rosy pink, and he splutters. “My  _ boss _ , Changkyun. My  _ boss _ .”

“Uh huh,” Changkyun replies, and then Jooheon is waddling down the aisles again with that beautiful thick booty. “What a waste,” Changkyun adds, only to himself.

The intern beside Changkyun finally speaks later that day. 

“Hi,” he says, slipping his headphones off his ears and down around his neck. 

“Hi.” 

“I’m Hyungwon,” the intern says, and Changkyun notices he has the fluffiest, most bizarrely precious lips he’s ever seen. 

“Changkyun.” Changkyun leans in closer. “You’re, like, really pretty. But like in a turtle-ish kinda way. A pretty turtle.”

Hyungwon laughs, and his tone sounds gargled like he’s constantly trying to force sound through those lips, and it keeps reverberating back into his throat to echo in that deep cavern. “Customer support intern too?”

Changkyun nods, showing Hyungwon his email inbox with a bold  **[57 unread messages]** . 

“That’s rough, buddy,” Hyungwon replies, patting Changkyun’s arm gently. His hands are massive, with fingers long enough to curl around Changkyun’s upper arm and touch. 

“Can we be friends?” 

Hyungwon shrugs. “Yeah, sure. You wanna get ramen for lunch? There’s a place ‘round the corner that does a lunch special.”

“Oh, hell yeah.” 

“Cool.” 

Hyungwon pulls his headphones back on and hunches over his laptop, assuming the position like everyone else. 

Changkyun stares into the depths of his rapidly filling inbox. 

Be a big-boy, Changkyun.

Be an adult. 

You deserve this. 

His first email is from a client who thinks that the advertisement their company sent reads like a traveling gypsy circus ad. It was for athletic wear. 

Changkyun quickly types back:  _ I’m terribly sorry for the miscommunication and dissatisfaction with our product. Could you point to what it is about the advertisement you find unsavory? P.S.-- ‘gypsy’ is technically a racial slur, and we would appreciate you not saying it again. Please, enjoy your day. Best, Changkyun at SevenX _

No less than three minutes later, Changkyun’s desk phone rings. 

“Hello?”

“Please, answer the phone with your name and department.” It’s Kihyun. He sounds sexily exasperated. Changkyun’s throat fills with cottonballs soaked in warm liquor.

“Sorry, uh, Changkyun in Customer Support here.”

“Can you come see me, Changkyun in Customer Support?” 

Changkyun’s cheeks feel tight, his skin like a vacuum seal over his body. He gets up, and his row watches him stride over, weaving through computer chairs, until he reaches Kihyun’s office. Like walking to the principal’s office in middle school. Without the “oooo”-ing.

“Shut the door, please,” Kihyun says. 

Changkyun obeys. 

“Have a seat,” he says.

Changkyun obeys again, dropping down onto the plush navy suede chair across from Kihyun’s desk. 

Kihyun puts his elbows down on his desk and peers at Changkyun directly from behind the thick lenses of his glasses. Changkyun does notice that he’s been wearing them all day today. He wonders if that’s because of what Changkyun said the night before.

“Changkyun, let me be frank. Is this your first office job?”

Changkyun nods wordlessly.

“Hm,” Kihyun replies, humming. “I just received a call from a client, complaining that someone on our customer support team chastised them in a product-complaint response.”

Changkyun purses his lips as if afraid to let himself speak. Something about Kihyun makes him want to listen. Changkyun would swallow his own lips and never speak again if Kihyun told him to.

“Changkyun. This is a multi-million-dollar software company. I don’t know how you got this job, if you have friends in important places or your dad donated money or--”

“I earned this,” Changkyun protests, suddenly swollen with anger. “Sorry, pardon me for interrupting, Sir, but I got this job of my own volition. I don’t have anyone to donate money in my name. I fuckin’--I’m sorry, ugh--I got myself here. I can show you my resume. I am in the top 1% of my goddamn--whoops, sorry again--graduating class. I speak four languages.”

Kihyun looks at him, squinting a little like he’s trying to read between the lines of Changkyun’s skin. “I see. Well, that’s impressive, Changkyun.”

The angry swelling in Changkyun’s chest deflates. And he re-swells with pride. Hearing his name in Kihyun’s mouth is like hearing sugar melt into caramel. 

“When a client complains, you need to be polite and respectful. You earn a positive response through respect, not through intimidation or--or aggression.”

“They used a racial slur, Sir,” Changkyun mutters, fiddling his fingers in his lap.

“Sit up,” Kihyun says.

Changkyun does. Easy.

“If you deserve to be here, and you’re as qualified as you claim,” Kihyun says, “then prove it. Act like it. No one here has time to baby you.”

Changkyun gnaws at his bottom lip and nods, feeling his eyes filling with frustrated tears. No one has scolded him like this in ages. Not since he was a child. Not since his dad left. He’s worked so hard to earn only praise since then. To be good. 

“I’ll be good,” Changkyun replies, after a moment. “I’m gonna be so good for you. Er, for the company.”

He flicks his gaze up from his lap, and Kihyun is looking at him like he knows exactly what Changkyun was about to say. He seems startled by it. In a familiar, successful way. 

“That’s,” Kihyun says, almost breathlessly, “that’s right. I’m sure you will.”

“Thank you,” Changkyun says, rising from the chair and adjusting his tight black trousers, turned slightly so Kihyun can see the way they lift his ass as he pulls at the fabric belt loops. “Sir.”

“Call me Kihyun. Everyone calls me Kihyun.” 

“Seems impolite. I’ll stick with  _ Sir _ .”

Kihyun pushes at the bridge of his glasses and looks away at his computer screen. “Whatever you want. Just don’t suck at your job.”

Changkyun smirks. 

That was actually...kind of cute?

 

Later, he and Hyungwon are eating ramen, and Hyungwon is explaining how he’s been an intern for two semesters now. Changkyun stirs his pork shoyu ramen with his chopsticks, stomach still feeling queasy from being chastised by the object of his infatuation. 

“Please teach me how to not suck,” Changkyun whines, grabbing for Hyungwon’s massive skeletal hands. He shakes them desperately. “Please.”

Hyungwon draws his hands back so he can continue eating. For someone so thin, he sure shovels those noodles in. Around a mouthful of noodles, Hyungwon garbles, “Just follow directions. It’s not hard work. It’s just a lot. You get used to it. Make some friends. Soonyoung is a good person to know. He can get you whatever. He’s like the prison commissary.”

“That’s dark.”

Hyungwon rubs at his mouth with his sleeve. “Jihoon is good to know, too. He’s in sales. Not sure why, because he’s like the grouchiest little turd ever, but he’s cute, and he’s been in the company since he was an intern too. Seungcheol is one promotion away from being management, but he’s easy to befriend. He’s content team. I mean, everyone is nice. Just super busy. But every other friday, we usually do an office-wide happy hour where everyone gets to mingle.”

“Hard to believe anyone at this office ever looks away from their laptops.”

“We are human, Changkyun,” Hyungwon laughs. 

“Robots. All of you.” Changkyun waves over his bowl of ramen and the steam goes flying into Hyungwon’s face. He looks like some kind of mystical turtle creature. Turtle Prince. “Listen, can I ask you something? Is Jooheon secretly dating his boss?”

“What? Jooheon Lee?”

Changkyun nods eagerly, leaning forward with palms slapped to the surface of the table. 

“Boy, you nuts. Jooheon is the most professional intern this company has ever had. He won an MVP award his first semester, and they  _ never _ give that shit to interns.”

“But his boss is totally fucking him, right?”

Hyungwon’s lips twitch at the corners. “Do you  _ want _ them to be fucking?”

“God,  _ yes _ . Jooheon needs to replace that stick up his butt with a good--” Changkyun cuts himself off, self-consciously dropping his gaze down to his soup.

“I see why Jooheon warned me not to talk to you,” Hyungwon cuts in, laughing again, this soothing deep sound that warms Changkyun’s chest from the inside like the comforting thud of good percussion. 

“What a little sneak,” Changkyun says, squinting bitterly. “I’m gonna tell the office about the time he got hard at a Coldplay concert.”

Hyungwon snorts, spitting broth all over the table. Changkyun wipes it from where spittle hit his cheek and grins. 

“Right? Isn’t that an amazing story? He was practically moaning.  _ Oh, Chris Martin, fill me with your dulcet tones _ \--”

“You’re cute,” Hyungwon says, kicking Changkyun under the table. “I’m glad I didn’t listen to Jooheon. You’re right, anyhow. He does need a nice dicking.”

“Oh, thank  _ God _ , you agree,” Changkyun groans. “We’ve been friends for like 15 years, and he’s always been like this.”

“Good?”

“A soft, doughy virgin.”

“He’s a good boy.”

Changkyun narrows his eyes. “No,  _ I’m  _ a good boy. He’s just fussy.”

Hyungwon pats Changkyun’s hand on top of the table. “Ok, you’re the good boy, I’m sorry.”

Changkyun grins. But it doesn’t feel the same as when Kihyun said he was impressive. Because Changkyun is a single-minded little shit, and he doesn’t stop until he gets what he wants.

But what’s life without a little selfishness?

 

For the next two days, Changkyun avoids Kihyun, except to slip a granola bar or yogurt into his desk drawer when Kihyun sporadically runs to use the restroom. Literally. Runs.

Kihyun has sent him one email since the time he pulled him into his office, and it just said:  _ To Changkyun Im in Customer Support, don’t forget to log your hours in your timesheet. _

 

The next week, on Monday, Changkyun stays late. Emails Kihyun from his desk when he sees Kihyun working into the night again without taking any breaks.

_ To Kihyun Yoo, COO, don’t forget to eat. And turn the lights on _ .

Kihyun meets his gaze from his office, through the glass. Shakes his head the way a dog trainer would look at a disobedient new pup trainee. 

 

The next day, Changkyun stays late again. Emails Kihyun. 

_ To Kihyun Yoo, COO. Do you live alone? _

Kihyun replies back almost instantly.  _ None of your business, Changkyun Im in customer support _ . 

 

Wednesday. 6pm. This time Changkyun uses Google chat. Turns up the aggression.

Changkyun:  _ Not to be disrespectful or anything, but do you sleep in your office or something? _

Kihyun:  _ Remember when I said none of your business? Still applies. _

Changkyun:  _ I’m ordering a sandwich from the deli across the street. Too cold to go outside. You want? _

Kihyun types and deletes for a while. Changkyun watches the “...” appear and disappear. 

Kihyun:  _ Smoked turkey with provolone and honey mustard. Lite honey mustard. Whole grain.  _

Changkyun:  _ Yes, Sir. _

Kihyun:  _ You didn’t earn that title from me _ .

Changkyun:  _ How can I? _

Kihyun doesn’t reply. 

Changkyun brings him his sandwich, but he’s on the phone, and they don’t speak again that night.

 

Thursday, 6pm. 

Changkyun has been walking past Kihyun’s office all day. He wore his tightest, blackest jeans that hug his skin like they’re acrylic paint. Paired it with a soft light blue cotton t-shirt that dips low over his collarbones. 

He can feel Kihyun’s eyes on him like mist. Like when it’s raining but the rain can barely be felt. When it’s like chilled, misting wetness settling over you like a second skin.

Changkyun finally walks in. 

Kihyun doesn’t look up from his computer. 

“I’m busy.”

“I know you are.”

“Then? What?”

Changkyun scratches at his stomach, the hem of his shirt riding up to bare a sliver of tan hip-bone. Kihyun’s eyes flicker over it and then back to his computer. 

“Are you dating someone?”

Kihyun moves his hands over his keyboard, ignoring him. 

Changkyun spins around, walking the perimeter of Kihyun’s office, letting Kihyun see how tight these jeans are. 

“Go home, Changkyun.”

“I have work to do, too, you know,” Changkyun says, hating how childish he sounds. “Sir,” he tacks on at the end.

“I said you didn’t earn that, remember? You know what game you’re trying to play, so you should know why I’m saying this.”

“You’ve done this before, too, then?”

“Done what, Changkyun?”

Changkyun scoffs and grabs a plaque from Kihyun’s bookcase from when he won a  _ NYC’s 30 Hottest Under 30  _ title _.  _

“This,” is all Changkyun can say, and his voice sounds weak even to himself.

“Talked to an employee?”

“You some kind of professional then?”

“Obviously. You’re standing in my office. Did you see my office label? COO?”

“I sure did. It’s very impressive, Sir.”

“Changkyun.”

“What?”

“I’m not doing this again. I’m Kihyun to you, got it?”

“If not Sir, then what? Daddy? Daddy, don’t you want to--”

“Out, Changkyun,” Kihyun says, voice raised like Changkyun has never heard it, but it’s shaking at the edges like he’s terrified. 

Changkyun suddenly feels awful. 

Kihyun really looks scared as he stands behind his desk, clutching the underside of the cheap plastic. His eyes are wild behind his glasses, and he’s breathing deeply. He points to his door.

“Don’t bother me about this again. Please. You’re a nice kid, okay? You can do really well at this company. I can’t spend time playing with you, hear me? I won’t say it again.”

Changkyun nods, perfectly chastised.  _ Again _ .

He calls Hyunwoo to pick him up, spending five minutes hiding in the men’s restroom before Hyunwoo texts to say he’s downstairs.

Hyunwoo stays with him that night as he cries, and he doesn’t ask any questions when Changkyun shoves old fried rice into his mouth, chases it with old red wine, all while continuing to cry.

He just pats Changkyun’s back and tells him he’s good, he’s okay, he’s really good, he’s doing really well, and Changkyun feels sick. 

 

It’s been two weeks at this job, and on the second Friday of January, it hits 5:00, and the office audibly groans aloud. They all stand from their desks and stretch out like statues finally come to life out of some static marble. 

Bi-weekly Happy Hour. 

“C’mon,” Hyungwon says, tugging Changkyun’s sleeve and herding him into the open kitchen/lobby area of their office. The office is laid out like a warehouse with exposed wood, lots of shiny metal pipes, and very few doors. Open concept. Very pricy in this city. 

Meanwhile Kihyun has a plastic desk. 

“Gimme a second,” Changkyun says, halting at the end of their row and waving Hyungwon to go on ahead of him. 

Kihyun is one of the only ones who didn’t get up immediately at 5 to head to Happy Hour. Changkyun can’t say he’s shocked. 

He knocks. 

Kihyun looks up, shakes his head. The disappointed dog trainer again.

Changkyun holds up his cellphone, the words  _ I’m sorry? _ Flashing across the screen. When Kihyun doesn’t react, Changkyun types furiously and then holds up his phone again. Now it reads:  _ I’m really, really sorry.  _

Kihyun rolls his eyes and waves for Changkyun to come in.

He steps in quietly, still nervous. 

“I messed up,” he says, feeling the flush rising in his throat up to the apples of his cheeks. “I misread some signals, and I’m sorry.”

Kihyun breathes out sharply. “It’s okay. You didn’t...you,” he pauses, runs a hand through his hair so it lifts from his forehead, and he has such nice eyebrows(?), Changkyun’s kneecaps feel like they’ve been greased. He feels wobbly. “It’s fine. We’re--you’re fine.”

“Aren’t you coming to Happy Hour?”

Kihyun bites at the inside of his cheek, somewhat hiding behind his double-monitors. “I’m busy.”

“Everyone here is busy. You have to take time for yourself.”

“You’re a kid, and you know nothing about me,” Kihyun mutters. 

“I know that you never leave your office, and you never eat, and you like being in charge. I know that you have needs like everyone else. And one of those is leaving this dumb office.”

Kihyun scratches the short hair at the nape of his neck, face turned away. “Are you watching me all the time?”

“Yeah,” Changkyun admits. “You’re sexy, and I think you thrive when you’re in charge. But I think you need someone on the other end to remind you of your own needs.”

“Stop trying to date me, Changkyun. I don’t date.”

“Who said I’m trying to date you, Sir? I don’t date either.”

“Go enjoy the Happy Hour, Changkyun. Meet some new people you can try to date.”

“I said I’m not...nevermind,” Changkyun huffs, resigned. “Isn’t there an idiom about all work and no play?”

“I play a fair amount. I’m not sure what you’ve assumed about me after two weeks,” Kihyun says, “but I’m not some stuffy old man. I’d surprise you.”

“I hope you will.”

 

The sun has already set, but the big, almost barrel-sized lamps above the tables are all lit, casting the room in a warm orange glow. Changkyun left his blazer at his desk and unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt to free his throat from its choke-hold. 

Hyungwon watches him fiddling with his shirt buttons and laughs, reaching out to rumple Changkyun’s hair. They’re standing in a group of other interns. 

From across the room, Changkyun spots Kihyun heading toward them. He’s still got his skinny gray satin tie tightly knotted at his throat, but his blazer is gone. He’s nursing a glass of whiskey against his lips. Changkyun’s mouth fills with spit. 

“What do you know about Kihyun?” Changkyun hisses at Hyungwon, as the two of them grab bottles of hipster IPA beer from bar table. 

“What do you mean? Like, basic stats?”

“Sure, whatever you know,” Changkyun replies, sipping at the chilled beer and watching Kihyun move between groups, mingling seamlessly everywhere he goes, despite never talking to anyone during the weekday. 

“I dunno. He’s only a couple years older than me. He started interning here before the company got big. Worked insane hours.”

“More insane than he does now?”

“Huh? I don’t know. You stalking him or something?”

“No. Not really. I don’t think? Maybe. Maybe yes.”

Hyungwon laughs and chugs half his beer. Where does it go? He must have five stomachs. “He basically lived here. Rumor was he kept a little roll-up cot under his desk. This was back before there were a lot of employees, and they were in a tiny rented space up in East Harlem. The pay was supposedly terrible, but he was weirdly passionate about the company and now he’s a boss-man.”

“Fuck,” Changkyun breathes out, unable to look away as Kihyun smiles down at Jihoon and laughs. Changkyun has never seen him laugh before. He almost looks human. Changkyun’s internal organs feel strange. Like they’re too cold or too warm. He can’t get comfortable. 

“He and Minhyuk are the two employees, aside from the founders, who have worked here the longest. They’re super rich now, obviously, because the company went public and sold for literal hundreds of millions of dollars.”

“ _ Fuck _ ,” Changkyun repeats. 

As if sensing his office indiscretion, Kihyun looks up from his conversation with Jihoon and Junhui. He’s still smiling, and Changkyun finds himself smiling back. 

It feels weirdly intimate, which is stupid,  _ stupid _ , Changkyun, you absolute baby, but he can’t help it. He feels floaty and fuzzy and--

“Is Hyunwoo picking you up?” 

Changkyun spins around, and Jooheon is there, flanked by a slightly-taller man with amber-colored hair. 

“Is this Changkyun?” 

“Yeah, I’m Changkyun. Are you the other boss-man? I mean, Jooheon’s boss?”

“Please,” he says, his voice high and scratchy and rough, “call me Minhyuk.”

“Glad to finally meet you, Minhyuk,” Changkyun says, moving his beer to his other hand so he can shake Minhyuk’s. “I’m the new customer support intern.”

“Oh, I know,” Minhyuk says, laughing like sandpaper music. “I’ve heard.”

“Jooheon, what the heck,” Changkyun hisses. 

Jooheon holds his hands up innocently. “I didn't say anything. Trust me, I’m not going around bragging about knowing you.”

“Then wh--”

Across the room, Kihyun looks up again and finds his gaze, and Changkyun smirks. 

_ Gotcha,  _ Boss-man. 

“So, is Hyunwoo picking you up again, or do you wanna come stay at my place?” Jooheon asks. 

“Why? Did my mom text you too?”

Jooheon flushes. 

Changkyun groans. “Goddamnit. I’m twenty-two years old. I don’t need to be babysat. I grew up in this fucking city.”

Jooheon kicks at Changkyun’s foot. Changkyun pouts. “Sorry. Forgive me for swearing, Sir.”

Minhyuk waves dismissively. “Don’t worry. I swear all the time. Jooheon is always blushing around me too, aren’t you, Jooheonie?”

“Still feel bad,” Changkyun replies, casting a smug grin at Jooheon about the nickname. “I’m trying to be professional.”

“Well, don’t call me Sir. Kihyun’s the only one who likes  _ that _ kinda shit.”

Changkyun can  _ feel _ his own pupils dilate at this bit of news. He was right. He knew he was right. “Is he now.”

Minhyuk meets his gaze, and they share a quiet conversation with their eyes. Minhyuk nods. Changkyun nods in understanding. 

As if sensing something afoot, Kihyun appears beside Minhyuk, slapping a hand onto his shoulder. “Hey, whatcha chattin’ about?”

Changkyun presses the tip of his beer bottle to his lips and flicks his tongue over a bead of beer on the rim. “Oh, nothing,  _ Sir _ . Just the policy about swearing in the office.”

“There isn’t one,” Kihyun says, confusedly glancing between Changkyun and Minhyuk and Jooheon. 

“Right you are,” Minhyuk says back. “Now, then, it’s nearly 6pm on a Friday night. We need to get out of here before we all die of old age in this overpriced office warehouse. Want some sushi, Jooheon?”

Jooheon nods, head lowered, and Changkyun watches enviously as he follows Minhyuk to grab their coats. 

Changkyun then continues watching as the rest of the office spills out the doors gradually, and just as he suspected--Kihyun stays, again not switching his office lights on even as he continues working.

Soonyoung eventually is the last to leave, having cleaned the entire office almost single-handedly, though Changkyun had actually offered to help beyond just throwing shit in the trash. 

Changkyun doesn’t knock. Not this time. It’s Go Time. 

He steps on Kihyun’s office light. 

Kihyun sighs and pulls his glasses off, rubbing the bridge of his nose between his fingers. Changkyun notes that Kihyun has an empty whiskey glass on his desk. “Yes, Changkyun? Can I help you?” 

“I know you want to fuck me,” Changkyun announces.

Kihyun’s lips part. He shakes his head and grabs for his tie, finally loosening it like he can’t breathe. “What makes you say that?”

“I see the way you react when I talk to you. When I walk past your office.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m too busy to give a damn about every employee that walks past my office door all day,” Kihyun spits, embarrassed. 

“It isn’t every employee,” Changkyun says, shutting Kihyun’s laptop, the monitor screens going black in return. “It’s just me.”

“You’re a kid.”

“I’m old enough. What is it, then? Can’t handle it? Can’t handle me?” Changkyun’s hands form into fists at his sides. He could have  _ sworn _ . He  _ knew _ . It was so close. He was so close.

Kihyun draws in a shaky breath. “Changkyun, you’re my subordinate. I can’t.”

“I’m not a permanent employee. There’s technically nothing in the handbook about--”

“Changkyun. You’re not--”

“You want this. I know you want this. You want me to call you Sir and get on my knees for you. I’ve never been wrong about this before,” Changkyun argues, feeling petulant, like the child Kihyun must believe he is.

“I have work to do,” Kihyun says, stern, jaw nearly clenched. 

“Don’t you want to bend me over this shitty plastic desk and fuck me until I cry? Don’t you? C’mon. Handle me. Do it. I--”

“Lock the door.”

Changkyun freezes. For a moment he isn’t sure he heard right, but Kihyun is watching him carefully now, waiting. Changkyun steps back until he’s pressed against the door, afraid to look away from Kihyun as he moves to flip the lock latch on the office door. Kihyun lowers his desk down to normal height. 

“On the couch,” Kihyun says, yanking at his tie with shaky hands. He tosses it down onto his desk, where there is no mess, and it looks so out of place, silk in a messy pile on the off-white plastic. 

Changkyun sits on the black leather loveseat, rubbing his palms against the thighs of his jeans as he waits. 

“I know boys like you, Changkyun,” Kihyun murmurs, sitting beside him on the loveseat and patting his lap. “You want me to be some kind of story for your friends? Some kind of conquest?”

Changkyun crawls over to straddle him, but Kihyun pulls him down so he’s splayed out over his lap instead. 

“No,” Changkyun pants, feeling himself growing hard against Kihyun’s thigh as he wriggles in place. 

“Daddy issues?”

Changkyun doesn’t reply to that. Bites his lip and squirms more needily. 

“Hm,” Kihyun says, and it isn’t quite an acknowledgment, but he also doesn’t push Changkyun away. 

“Get on with it then,  _ Daddy _ .”

Changkyun is testing him now. Pushing it. Kihyun is, from what he’s observed, the kind of man who doesn’t like to be interrupted, doesn’t like to be ridiculed, doesn’t like to be belittled. And Changkyun has always desperately wanted someone who could handle him the way he is. 

Persuasively persistent. A baby. 

“If I’m gonna do this, I’m gonna do it the right way. So. Safeword?” 

Changkyun can feel Kihyun getting hard too, against his belly. It feels so good; he feels so powerful. 

“What? Oh, uh, Gameboy.”

“God,” Kihyun laughs. “All right.”

“We good now?” 

Kihyun’s breath is warm as it ghosts over the back of Changkyun’s neck. “I might not be as gentle as you’re accustomed to.”

Changkyun shivers. “Fucking  _ good _ . I was hoping you wouldn’t be.”

“Use the safeword if you need to.”

“I will. I’m not dumb. I like pain, not dying.”

Kihyun runs his nails up into Changkyun’s hair, over his scalp, and Changkyun revels in it. “Pants down around your knees, baby boy.”

Changkyun feels frantic. Feels the urgency boiling up inside him, in his blood. He reaches under his belly to undo the button on his jeans, and now he’s really regretting these tight pants as he tries to seductively wriggle them down over his thighs to his knees. 

Kihyun chuckles under his breath but doesn’t say anything more about it. He runs his warm palm over Changkyun’s bare skin. “Not wearing underwear in the office. Fuck, you’re so bad.”

Changkyun’s breath sounds so loud in his own skull. “What do you do to bad boys, Sir.”

Kihyun lands a sharp slap to Changkyun’s bare ass cheek. “Not Sir.”

“Yes, Daddy,” Changkyun replies, huffing out a breath that sounds like a wheeze as Kihyun grips the flesh of his ass and watches it jiggle. 

“You’re fucking gorgeous, and you know it,” he says, hands hot and firm all over Changkyun’s skin. He rakes his nails from Changkyun’s tailbone down over the skin of his ass and further to his thighs. 

Changkyun feels like molten lava has been poured through a funnel in his throat into his belly. Into his core. He is now the core of the very fucking earth, burning and hot. 

“Hit me, Daddy, please. Please,” Changkyun begs, pressing his thighs together, cock hard against Kihyun’s leg. The roughness of his trousers chafes against Changkyun’s bare skin, and he loves it. 

“I have work to do,” Kihyun says, aiming a slap to both cheeks in sequence. Every time a slap sounds in the quiet of the room, Changkyun chokes on a moan. Kihyun’s breath is coming faster now, harder. Changkyun can feel it against his hair. “You interrupted me. I said no, and you didn’t listen.”

Changkyun feels everything slipping out of focus around him like it’s all turned to falling sand. He could hold his hand out and feel time dripping through his fingers to the floor. There is no floor. Just sand. 

“I’m normally so good,” Changkyun babbles, lifting his hips up as Kihyun hits him again in the same spot as the last round, and it stings. It stings like a burn beneath his skin. It’s sharp, and Changkyun wants to push into it but also away. When he moves away, his cock ruts against Kihyun’s thigh, which is even worse. 

Kihyun grabs the back of his neck. “I’m gonna fuck that bratty mouth of yours, baby. Do you want that? You’ve been thirsting for my cock for weeks now, haven’t you, baby? You’re so needy for it.”

Changkyun nods, and Kihyun spanks him again.

“Words.”

Changkyun moans out brokenly, feeling the hot press of tears. “I want it.”

“What do good boys say, Changkyun?”

Changkyun groans and bucks against Kihyun’s thigh, needing  _ more _ , but Kihyun grips the back of his neck tightly. 

“What do they say, baby boy?”

“ _ Please _ .”

“Please,  _ what _ ?” Kihyun spanks his upper thigh, and it can barely be called relief from the burning sting of his ass. 

Changkyun sobs, hands curled into fists. “Please let me... _ please _ ...I want…” Changkyun’s lips part and close, and he can barely find the words. Everything turns to breath. 

“It’s okay, Changkyun, you’re doing well,” Kihyun says, suddenly gentle, turning Changkyun onto his back and stroking his thumb over Changkyun’s cheekbone. Changkyun’s eyelids flutter and he leans into the touch. There’s a comfort in Kihyun’s hands. The way they’re small and light against Changkyun’s jawbone. Changkyun isn’t afraid. He just wants. “Eyes open, baby. Stay with me here.”

Changkyun opens his eyes again. Kihyun’s face is so sharp and yet soft. It’s unlike any face Changkyun has ever seen. 

He’s so fucking hot. 

Changkyun reaches up to brush Kihyun’s hair back from his forehead, remembering how sexy he’d looked before with his forehead exposed. Kihyun grabs his wrist. 

“No touching, baby,” Kihyun says, pinching Changkyun’s chin between his fingers to hold his head steady. “Now, on your knees.” 

Sometimes Changkyun feels like a finicky shower faucet. He’s always too hot or too cold. Too quiet. Too loud. Too shy. Too abrasive. Always too much. Too  _ too _ .

To everyone he’s ever been with, Changkyun has been too much. Asked for too much. 

For once, Changkyun wants to be just right. He wants to be  _ good _ .

He rolls off Kihyun’s lap and onto his knees, hands neatly folded in his lap on the hardwood floor.

Kihyun rises slowly, watching Changkyun like a predator, like a fox, and Changkyun wonders why he never saw the comparison before. Everything about Kihyun is foxlike. His eyes. The way he’s sharp like a feline but soft and open like a canine. 

“Let me see you, baby,” Kihyun murmurs, tapping under Changkyun’s chin so he looks up to meet his gaze. “Arms up.” 

Changkyun obeys, easy, good. 

Kihyun pulls Changkyun’s shirt up over his head, ruffling his hair, and he neatly folds it and lays it down on the loveseat. Figures Kihyun would fold the clothes after he strips them from your aching body. 

Kihyun scratches his nails from one of Changkyun’s shoulder behind his neck to the other shoulder, circling Changkyun on the floor like a shark. His teeth are white and perfectly straight as he grins down at him. 

“You’re fucking beautiful. You knew I wanted you. Of course you did,” Kihyun breathes, grabbing Changkyun by the hair so he moves up onto his knees. “Stay.” 

Changkyun’s brows pull together. He watches as Kihyun unbuckles his belt and slips it out from the loops of his slacks. He lays it down on the loveseat. Neat, neat, neat. He pops open the fancy gold button and tugs the zipper down. 

“No underwear at the office,” Changkyun says, mimicking Kihyun’s line from before. “ _ Bad _ .”

Kihyun stops tugging his pants down. He starts zipping them back up stoically, and he reaches for his belt.

“Wait!” Changkyun cries desperately. “Please, I’m sorry. That was bad, that was very bad. I’m sorry, Daddy, please let me have it.”

Kihyun smiles and touches Changkyun’s cheek, cradling it in his palm. “Good boy.”

Changkyun preens. The praise sinks into his pores like summer sweat in the best way. Like he’s been running for miles and miles and can finally rest and marinate in his success. 

Kihyun slips his cock out between the open zipper. Doesn’t bother pushing his pants down any further. “C’mere, baby boy. Don’t you want it?”

Changkyun makes a needy sound at the back of his throat. Kihyun’s dick isn’t as long as some of the cocks he’s seen before, but it’s thick and flushed at the tip, and Kihyun is gripping the base with those gorgeous delicate fingers. The bare skin framed by the dark material of Kihyun’s open slacks just makes Changkyun feel needier somehow. 

“Can I? Please?”

Kihyun nods, and Changkyun crawls forward on his hands and knees. Kihyun’s floor is dust-free, spotless. Changkyun wonders when he has time to clean.

Kihyun holds his free hand up, and Changkyun stops, arms at his sides. He presses the tip of his cock against Changkyun’s lips, and when Changkyun goes to part his lips, take the thick heat into his mouth, Kihyun grabs him by the hair and yanks his head back. 

Changkyun shudders, chest heaving. “Please?” Changkyun feels broken, like he can’t form any other word now.

Kihyun lets Changkyun lean in again, and Changkyun licks his lips to taste Kihyun’s precum. Kihyun watches him moving in closer, and he yanks Changkyun back again by the hair. 

Changkyun sniffles and whines and shudders, chest filling up with frustrated sobs. “Fuck,  _ please _ . Daddy, Sir, no, Kihyun, no,  _ Daddy, _ I’m being good.”

“I’m making sure you’ve learned your lesson from all this,” Kihyun says, pupils blown wide as he watches Changkyun’s chest heaving with the need to suck his dick. It feels silly. How badly the need thrums through him like this. Changkyun has always had needs. Needs that overwhelm him. He gets things into his head and then they don’t go away. They never go away unless he gives his body what it wants.

“I promise,” Changkyun pleads. “I’ll only be good for you. I was wrong. I was bad. I wanna be good. I wanna be the best baby you’ve ever seen. Give it to me. Please,  _ fuck _ , give it to me.”

Changkyun’s mouth feels empty. His tongue craves the weight of Kihyun’s dick. He can taste him on the roof of his mouth.

“Good boy. You are. You are being so good,” Kihyun coos. “Open for me, okay?”

Changkyun nods, eyes brimmed with frustrated tears, and he opens obediently.

Kihyun feels so hot and thick as he slides between Changkyun’s lips, and he pulses on Changkyun’s tongue. “Shit,” Kihyun slurs, fisting Changkyun’s hair. Changkyun’s scalp burns, and it sends shivers of sparking pain down to his cock. “Good boy. Fuck, you feel good. Relax, baby.”

Changkyun obeys, throat opening, muscles going lax. He wants Kihyun to use him. Wants Kihyun to empty him completely and fill him up. Wants to fill his skull with Kihyun’s praise and nothing else. 

Changkyun hums and sucks around the skin in his mouth. Kihyun swears again. 

“I’m gonna fuck this cute little face, baby boy, okay? Fuck, look at this sweet little face, with these sweet little cheeks, but you’re filthy, aren’t you? You’re going to give everything to me tonight, and it’s going to be beautiful.” He goes quiet a moment, still. “But if you need me to stop, tap my thigh three times.”

Changkyun gives a little nod and blinks up at Kihyun as he starts thrusting into the wet warmth of Changkyun’s throat. Changkyun gags. Of course he does. He’s sucked plenty of cock, but something about Kihyun makes him feel so unbalanced. 

He’s overwhelmed with the need to be perfect for him. He’s never felt this way before. Like he wants Kihyun to take him apart. He forces himself to relax more, goes nearly limp in Kihyun’s hold. Kihyun fucks into his mouth in short little strokes, and Changkyun can’t wait to feel those snake hips fuck into him from behind. 

“Shit, baby boy, you’re good at this, huh? Fuck, just  _ look _ at you. You’re dripping all over my carpet. Gonna make you clean that up, you know. Making a mess of my office after interrupting my work.”

Changkyun shifts on his knees, his cock pulsing and weeping precum over his stomach and dripping down his thighs onto the floor. He wants to touch himself, but he keeps his hands at his sides. 

Kihyun’s knees shake a little when Changkyun swallows around him. He grips into Changkyun’s hair tighter and fucks into his throat harder. It only takes three more short thrusts of those gorgeous thin hips before he’s pulling Changkyun back by the hair and spilling his release over Changkyun’s face. 

Kihyun’s panting, looking much more affected than Changkyun could have ever hoped. “Oh, Changkyun, I’m sorry.” He drops to his knees and riffles around in his pockets, before pulling out a package of wet wipes. He tugs a wipe from the plastic packet and wipes his own cum from where it had splashed into Changkyun’s eyelashes and onto his cheek. 

Changkyun grabs his hand and stops him when he moves to wipe it from Changkyun’s mouth. He pulls his lips inwards, sucking every trace of Kihyun from his skin, and humming, pleased. 

Kihyun cups Changkyun’s cheeks and smiles proudly. Changkyun feels so foggy and open. “Thank you, Changkyun. You were very good for me.”

Changkyun smiles back. “You gonna fuck me now.” He pauses, drawing in a much-needed breath. “Daddy?”

Kihyun blinks, smile shifting into a crooked smirk. “I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Unfortunately, I have a presentation due at 8:30, and it’s now...8.”

“But--” Changkyun crawls forward, and Kihyun looks at him, daring him to say more. “Right. Of course. Yes, Daddy, I’ll be patient.”

Kihyun’s eyes widen like he wasn’t expecting that. Like he was expecting Changkyun to be upset. To leave. 

Well Changkyun is nothing if not persistent. Persuasive. Persistent. A real baby doesn’t give up so easily.

“I’ll be good and wait,” Changkyun says. 

“That’s a good boy,” Kihyun says, grabbing his laptop and moving to the couch. “C’mere, baby boy, wait here with me.”

Changkyun nods. Kihyun’s hands are shaking when Changkyun curls up with his head on Kihyun’s thigh as he types at his laptop perched on his knees. Changkyun grins, pleased. 

“It’s been a while, Daddy,” Changkyun says quietly, after a couple minutes of silence, and Kihyun’s fingers pause over the keyboard. “I’m probably too tight. It’ll take forever to loosen me up enough for your thick--”

Kihyun spanks him, and his skin still stings a bit from before, so he cries out. His lips smack shut seconds later. He feels the pout forming on his swollen, chapped lips.

“Daddy’s busy, baby.”

Changkyun wonders if they’re still in the scene. He’s not super familiar with people who do kink like this. He and Hoseok dabbled in it before. Went to some clubs to learn protocol, but Hoseok was always afraid of hurting him. Kihyun is too careful, too practiced to hurt him. Changkyun senses that’s how Kihyun is about every aspect of his life. 

And, god, if that’s not the sexiest thing Changkyun’s ever experienced. 

And it would be  _ just _ like Kihyun, based on the two weeks of minor experience Changkyun has with him, to make a partner wait, in scene, as he finishes his work. Wait to finally get fucked the way he’s wanted for years. 

Changkyun starts to fidget in place. His cock is still hard, still dripping, red and flushed and it  _ hurts _ . And Kihyun is just typing with those gorgeous pale fingers, and Changkyun wants them. Wants him. 

Changkyun pants and stretches a little, rubbing his cock against the suede of the couch. Kihyun ignores him. Types more. Reads for a few minutes in silence. Changkyun whines, whimpers, really, fighting to keep his hands away from his cock because he knows Kihyun will punish him again. 

“Please,” Changkyun whispers, now full-bodied shaking, goosebumps all up and down his bare skin. 

Kihyun pulls his wallet from his pocket and grabs a packet of lube. “Don’t you dare say anything about the wet wipes or the lube, Changkyun.”

“I promise,” Changkyun giggles, pressing his face into Kihyun’s thigh to muffle the sound. 

“Don’t move,” Kihyun says, settling back into place with his laptop. “I’m going to read over my presentation, so hold still.” 

Changkyun nods, cheek squished against Kihyun’s thigh. “Yes, Daddy.”

Kihyun’s slick fingers trail down the notches of Changkyun’s spine and circle over his entrance. “Quiet, too. Daddy needs to concentrate.”

“Yes, Daddy. Of course.”

Kihyun presses the tip of his finger in, and Changkyun bites down on a whine. He needs more. He needs it all. 

Kihyun works two fingers into him as he clenches his hands into tight fists, nails biting into his palms, fighting to keep still, fighting to keep quiet. It’s the most agonizing five minutes of his life. When Kihyun fits in a third finger and presses up against his walls, Changkyun keens. 

“Please,” he whispers again, eyes shut tight as he fights the urge to fist his own cock. “I’ve been good. I’ve tried so hard.”

“I know, gorgeous boy. I know,” Kihyun murmurs, working his fingers wider to spread Changkyun’s walls even further apart. He pulls his fingers out after another long moment of agony. “Hands on my desk. Go. Let me give you what you earned.”

Changkyun nearly squeals, and it sounds odd in his low-tone voice. He scrambles off the couch, collapsing onto the floor in a heap, and Kihyun laughs. Laughs right at him. 

“Hurry, baby. I don’t like waiting.”

Changkyun meeps and clambers up off the floor to grip the edge of Kihyun’s desk. Hips up, thighs spread, Changkyun peers over his shoulder, cheeks wet with needy tears. “Gimme. Please. Gimme now.”

“What a little brat you are. Hasn’t anyone ever taught you manners? Turn back around.” 

Changkyun huffs, listening to the familiar foil rip of a condom wrapper. Kihyun pulls Changkyun’s hips back against him, with no warning, and seats himself deep. Changkyun screams. His voice crackles like it’s being ripped from him. 

“Yes,” Changkyun cries, fingers shaking as they grip the edge of the desk. “God, yes.”

“What do you say, baby boy?”

“Thank you,” Changkyun whimpers, the head of his cock rubbing against the surface of Kihyun’s desk as he’s fucked into hard from behind. “Daddy, thank you, it feels so good.”

Kihyun reaches around between Changkyun’s legs and grips the base of his cock. “Not yet, baby. Daddy comes first.”

Changkyun wants to scream again, but he doesn’t even have the energy. The heat, like flare guns firing out of every pore in his body, takes over, and everything starts slipping away again. Kihyun’s hips are like perfectly-controlled bullets. He hits Changkyun’s prostate once, making Changkyun squeak, and then he doesn't move away. He angles himself perfectly over and over and over, and Changkyun can’t breathe. 

“Please, I need to--I need--” Changkyun moans brokenly. 

“I’m almost there, baby boy, just hold on.” 

Changkyun drops his head down, lets everything take over beneath his skin. Lets everything wrap around him tight, pressing in on him in the most delicious way. Kihyun’s thrusts come harder, and the tight grip around Changkyun’s cock makes every stroke against his prostate feel like the worst kind of pleasure. 

“Okay, baby, almost, almost.” 

Kihyun grips his hips bruisingly and fucks into him shallow, erratic, before stilling, and Changkyun can feel the way he pulses. He wants to feel the way Kihyun would fill him up. 

Kihyun pulls out, grabs Changkyun, and hoists him up onto the edge of his desk. He fucks three fingers back into Changkyun and fists his cock hard and fast. Changkyun’s head can barely catch up to the coiling, searing pleasure, and then it hits him hard. 

Changkyun drops his head back and screams. The scream breaks off into a shattered cry as he cums hard over Kihyun’s fingers and his own abdomen. He sags, going totally limp, and Kihyun catches him and carries him over to the loveseat. 

“Hey, hey, look at me,” Kihyun coos, stroking Changkyun’s matted hair back from his face. 

Changkyun’s eyelids flutter open. “That was good. Great.”

Kihyun laughs, rolling his eyes. “Mm. I’m gonna get cleaned up, okay? You can doze a little while I do that.”

Changkyun thinks he nods, but everything goes dark with exhaustion. 

When he comes to, Kihyun is wiping at his fingers and stomach with the wet wipes. “Sorry,” Kihyun says, smiling gently. “Habit.”

“You’re very neat.”

“I like things a certain way.”

“I’ve learned.”

“Listen, uh, Changkyun. This was perfect. Really. It was good. You’re gorgeous and your ass is fucking phenomenal and you are so, so sweet. Really.”

“Why do I feel like this is gonna end in a  _ but _ .”

Kihyun hands Changkyun his folded clothing. “I don’t do this anymore. For a reason. And it isn’t your fault, so don’t believe it is. Please.”

“Do what? Fuck?”

“Anything more than once. Anything that could be serious. This type of arrangement is serious, Changkyun. I know you might not get that now, but it...there are feelings that come with it. You need trust and l--and other feelings.”

“So?”

“So I said I don’t do that anymore. I can’t.”

“What if I don’t want more than sex? What if all I want from you is sex and maybe some nice stuff.”

“I need there to be an emotional distance, Changkyun.”

“So let’s do what those kids at Columbia do. Just, you know. The ones with the old married guys who pay their tuition.”

“You want me to be your sugar daddy?”

“You’re a business-minded guy, right? You don’t fall for your clients. It’s purely transactional. I give you the release you  _ desperately _ \--don’t look at me like that, you know it’s true--need, and you give me your fullest Business Daddy aesthetic.”

“My what?”

“Buy me things and tell me I’m cute and I’ll get on my knees for you every fucking day you want. You need to mellow out.”

“You want money?”

Changkyun bites back the urge to admit he doesn’t give a fuck about money. Just wants Kihyun to let him come back. “Like I said. Business transaction. Purely. Sex and money and nothing else.”

Kihyun gnaws at his lip. Starts to shake his head. 

“Think about it,” Changkyun blurts. “Just don’t say yes or no now. Think about it.” 

He grabs his clothes and hastily throws them back on. Kihyun moves back behind his desk, but he looks calmer than Changkyun has seen him in two weeks. 

“You deserve more than this, Changkyun,” Kihyun says, as Changkyun pulls weakly at his office door to slip out. 

“If you want to tell me what I deserve, you need to earn that right,” Changkyun retorts, and is gone. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/n: have fun, be safe  
> warnings for this chapter: uhhh pain???? some subspace??  
> please, as always, comment and kudo--i love you

“So,” Hyunwoo says, tying a baby blue apron around his waist and slapping non-latex gloves onto his hands. “You gonna tell me why you’re walking like you’ve got the most epic sunburn on your asscheeks, Im Changkyun?”

Changkyun slaps Hyunwoo with his own gloves before slipping them on. His hands are small, so the fingers flop a little at the ends. “My mom is in the very next room, you putz.”

“Don’t call me a putz; I don’t even know what that means,” Hyunwoo grumbles, kneeling beside the large plastic tub on the floor and squishing his hands through the kimchi to massage the sauce through the cabbage leaves. “Your mom is gonna get a citation again for this.”

“She knows. They can’t evict her. It’s cultural. She could sue.”

“‘She’s a public nuisance with those smelly cabbages,’” Hyunwoo says, mimicking the woman who lives across the hall from Changkyun’s mother. 

“She threw a slipper at Mom the other day,” Changkyun adds. “You told me this was a safe area for her, and now she’s being attacked in her own building.”

Hyunwoo lifts his hands from the tub of kimchi, the clear plastic gloves stained red now, coated in sauce. “You want me to go over there? Freak her out a little?”

“You are very good at looking intimidating, but then you open your mouth,” Changkyun sighs, peeling back a few leaves of cabbage to rub sauce between them. “Like a big dog who doesn’t growl, he just tells knock-knock jokes.”

“I don’t know any knock-knock jokes,” Hyunwoo retorts. “Actually, wait, I heard this one where--”

“Oh, boys,” Changkyun’s mom cries,  standing beside the kimchi tub. “What did I do to deserve such good boys?”

“Good question,” Changkyun huffs, and Hyunwoo flicks sauce at his cheek.

“That could really burn my eyes out, you know?” Changkyun screeches, flicking sauce from his own gloves over at Hyunwoo in retaliation. 

“Changkyun, what’s this I hear about you having sunburn on your bum?” 

Changkyun wails, face tipped up to the ceiling so the nice family of seven on the floor above them can hear his agony and hopefully call the police to rescue him. 

“I taught you better than that, Im Changkyun,” she tsks. “Sunscreen all the time. I know it’s winter but--”

“I don’t have sunburn, Mom!” Changkyun groans. “Hyunwoo was being facetious.”

“Oh, my smart, precious boy,” she cries, dropping into a squat to squish his cheeks. He can’t swat her away because of his gochujang-coated gloves. “Thank goodness for the amazing public education you received. I thank God everyday for--”

“ _ Mom _ ,” Changkyun whines, collapsing onto the floor on his back. 

“He’s in a mood,” Hyunwoo explains, kicking at Changkyun’s thigh with the toe of his socked foot. 

“He’s been in a mood since he was fifteen,” Changkyun’s Mom replies, wincing as she rises back up to her feet, pressing a hand to the small of her back and stretching up a little. “Who wants tea? And, Changkyunnie, dear, I’m your mother. I know you don’t have sunburn. Please use protection.”

Changkyun rolls into the fetal position, sniffling. “I’m filing for emancipation.”

“You’re twenty-two.”

“I want to be retroactively emancipated.”

“At least I have one good son, eh, Hyunwoo, love?”

Hyunwoo massages the kimchi and nods dutifully. Changkyun narrows his eyes. 

Changkyun tastes the words on his tongue, but he doesn’t expel them. He’s only said them once, and he’s regretted it everyday since. He bites his lips and turns away. 

Hyunwoo sighs. 

“Not my fault you make it painfully obvious when you’ve been gettin’ rowdy.”

“I was  _ not _ getting  _ rowdy _ .”

 

“You smell weird,” Jooheon huffs, standing beside Changkyun in the elevator the following Monday. 

“What, you mean clean? I know it’s an unusual scent for you, but some of us--”

“What’s got you so pissy, huh? Did your mom get another public nuisancy citation for making kimchi in your old baby bath?”

Changkyun whips his head away from the diamond ad playing on the elevator screen. “That’s my old  _ baby bath _ ?”

Jooheon laughs smugly, and Changkyun rubs at his face, bested once again by the deceptively sweet lips of Lee Jooheon. 

“Hey, uh, Jooheon, you’d tell me if you were sleeping with Minhyuk, right?” Changkyun asks, as the elevator stops at their floor. 

“What? Changkyun, please. He’s my boss, and I--”

“You’d tell me, right? I know you aren’t, but if you were, you’d tell me?”

Jooheon stares at him a moment as the elevator doors part. He nods briefly. Changkyun nods back and claps him on the shoulder. “I await the news.”

Jooheon moans and pushes past him out the elevator and over to Minhyuk’s office. 

When Changkyun reaches his own desk, Hyungwon is sitting there already, typing into a massive spreadsheet. He tugs his headphones down around his neck and grins sleepily. 

“Hey, man, good weekend?” 

He talks like he hasn’t slept in years, and it’s just the cutest thing. His cheeks fighting to lift to form words, his eyelids heavy, his lips swollen and puffy. Changkyun’s heart swells. He drops his head onto Hyungwon’s bony shoulder. 

“Better now,” Changkyun snuffles. 

Hyungwon lifts a massive hand and lays it on Changkyun’s head. He pats once, twice, and moves his hand back to his keyboard. “Someone left something on your desk. It was here when I got in.”

Changkyun’s pulse leaps up into his eye sockets, and he fumbles around his desk before finding a granola bar under his laptop stand. He deflates, craning his neck to peer into Kihyun’s office. He’s standing, almost lunging, actually, like an old man whose knees don’t work quite the way they used to. His blazer is draped over the back of his unused desk chair, and Changkyun notes he’s wearing a forest green sweater vest over a white button-down. 

“Why am I like this?” Changkyun mutters bitterly, peeling the granola bar wrapper off and munching loudly. “Not even my fucking type. Stupid skinny grandpa.”

Hyungwon pulls his headphones back down. “You talkin’ to me, dude?”

Changkyun shakes his head. “Nah, man, you’re good.”

Hyungwon nods, but he flickers his gaze over to Kihyun’s office when Changkyun doesn’t look away after a few seconds. 

“Sure you’re ok? Did you get in trouble again?”

“If only,” Changkyun sighs, shoving the rest of the granola bar in his mouth and diving into his email inbox. 

He gets into the zone, typing out fifteen product complaint email replies before Hyungwon taps him on the shoulder. 

“Your phone is ringing, dude,” he says. 

Changkyun’s fingers twitch over the office phone before he plucks it up and shoulders it against his ear. “Changkyun Im, Customer Support.”

“Good boy.” 

Changkyun gives a full-body shiver, gripping his own thighs as he forces out a shaky exhale. “Can I help you, Mr. COO?”

Kihyun breathes into the receiver, and the tiny sound of his expelled air makes Changkyun press his thighs together under his desk. “I was expecting you to call me first, frankly.”

“What made you think that? I seem easy?”

“Watch it,” Kihyun warns. “Didn’t you get my note?”

“Note?” Changkyun scoffs. “You mean did I eat your complimentary office snack? Yes, thank you, Mr. COO, how mighty grateful I was for leaving me something I could have grabbed from the kitchen myself.”

Kihyun seems to almost growl on the other end of the call. “I knew it would be stupid. Ugh. Changkyun, did you throw out the wrapper?”

“What? You think I’m some kind of savage who stores all my trash somewhere? Some kind of--of hoarder?” 

“Changkyun,” Kihyun laughs, and Changkyun looks over at his office to see him covering his face with a soft, warm palm. Changkyun remembers the feeling of those gorgeously smooth palms over his skin, like silk gliding over glass. “I wrote a note on the wrapper.”

“Oh,” Changkyun murmurs dumbly, shouldering the phone tighter against his ear as he bends down to snatch the wrapper from his little desk trash can. He turns it over between his fingers until he finds a little scribble in sharpie over the nutrition facts. 

_ I want to earn it _ . 

Changkyun’s breath shudders out of him, and he grips the underside of his chair as if he might topple sideways with how off-balance he feels. “Okay,” he says. “Okay, yeah.”

Kihyun chokes on a laugh on the other end of the call, and Changkyun wishes he were in his physical space now. 

“When?”

“Friday? I want to take you somewhere first.”

“That’s so far away,” Changkyun replies, tone coming whinier than he intended. “I’m free tonight, you know.”

“You need to be a good boy this week,” Kihyun says with all the rich sweetness of his almost lisping voice. 

“I’m  _ always _ a good boy.”

“Mhm,” Kihyun hums. “So prove it to me. And then I’ll surprise you on Friday. But don’t call me or come into my office to bug me until then, okay? Patience is very important.”

Changkyun feels the protest bubbling up in his larynx, complaints simmering hot in his voice box. “You’re proactively punishing me.”

“Nuh uh,” Kihyun replies. “Oh, I’ve got a call on the other line. Have a good week, baby boy.”

Changkyun gurgles and the line goes dead. He looks down at the wrapper on his desk and tucks it into his pocket. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Hyungwon watching him, head tilted, eyes slowly blinking. He shrugs and turns back to his computer.

Now Changkyun really is a hoarder. A filthy trash hoarder. 

 

“I don’t understand,” Hyunwoo is saying, as Changkyun thrusts his leg back between Hyunwoo’s in the shower. 

“I need you to shave the backs of my legs, Hyunwoo,  _ God _ ,” Changkyun says, hands pressed to the tiled wall of his little apartment shower. “I can’t reach, and I always miss spots and cut the backs of my knees and--”

Hyunwoo stares down at Changkyun’s bare leg like he’s never seen a leg before, and then he nods. “Okay.”

Changkyun waits as Hyunwoo bends down and lathers strawberry-scented shaving cream onto the back of Changkyun’s leg. Changkyun fingers the grout between the tiles. “I’m really grateful,” he says. 

“For me shaving your leg hair?”

“For you in general,” Changkyun huffs, tasting the hard shower water on his tongue as he speaks. “You don’t owe us anything, you know.”

Hyunwoo doesn’t reply, just runs the razor up the back of Changkyun’s right calf and up to his knee. It tickles a little, not doing it himself. Like feeling a sharp fingernail grazing his skin from ankle to thigh. Changkyun wonders what it would feel like to lay himself bare in front of Kihyun, have him trace every inch of skin on Changkyun’s body before finally fingering him open. 

“Watch the backs of my knees, okay? They get cut really easily.”

“This razor is so good. Are these little soap bars around the blades?” Hyunwoo asks, sounding amazed as he drags the razor up Changkyun’s thigh. 

“Yeah. It’s ‘for girls’ or whatever, so it’s more expensive, but it’s the only one that doesn’t split my leg skin open all the damn time. I get these little cuts all over and I don’t see them until I get out of the shower, and it’s just like blood  _ everywhere _ ,” Changkyun explains, pushing his wet hair out of his eyes as he waits for Hyunwoo to go back over his skin again to make sure the hair is gone. 

“I know I don’t owe you anything,” Hyunwoo finally says, always a couple steps behind. Hyunwoo’s thoughts always take a bit longer to translate into words. Changkyun has always appreciated that about him. How he speaks like wet sand. “You’ve always been like family, Changkyun. Even if you aren’t really my brother.”

“Except when you fucked me,” Changkyun reminds him. “We weren’t family then.”

Hyunwoo splutters wetly. “Why do you feel the need to phrase things like that. In the worst possible way. It was like fifteen minutes, Changkyun.”

“God, was it really only fifteen minutes?” Changkyun squeaks out with a shy, ashamed giggle. “Fuck, that’s embarrassing. I really thought I was some kind of sex prodigy, you know.”

Hyunwoo laughs, the sound like warm chocolate syrup, and Changkyun shuts his eyes and lets Hyunwoo continue shaving his other leg. 

“So, you have a date or something?” 

Changkyun shakes his head, knowing Hyunwoo isn’t even looking at him to see it, focussing instead on his leg so he doesn’t cut him. “Not a date, no.”

“So you always meticulously shave your legs to, what, run errands?”

“I’m going out. A young hot thang like myself? In case you forgot, what with being the kind of good little monk that a mother would love to have around on a friday night, the rest of the world enjoys going out on the weekends.”

“I have a literal blade to your skin right now, and you want to just jauntily tease me,” Hyunwoo observes, shaking his head at the back of Changkyun’s knee like it’s his face. 

“Good luck hurting me with that razor. Only the gentlest, most pacifistic blades for  _ my _ precious, angelic skin,” Changkyun counters, nail picking at some loose grout between his shower tiles. 

“So if you aren’t going on a date, where  _ are _ you going?” Hyunwoo says again, wiping away the excess shaving cream from Changkyun’s ankle and shaking his hand under the spray of water to clean it. Hyunwoo stands and steps out, and his boxers drip, sopping wet, to the tempurpedic shower mat. 

“Wait, are you sure you got everything?” Changkyun asks, grabbing the shower curtain and wiggling his bare left leg out, into the light from his bathroom vanity mirror.

“You’re a naked mole rat,” Hyunwoo confirms. 

“Now you’re just really trying to prove to yourself that you don’t find me sexy,” Changkyun grouches, drawing his leg back in under the spray and running his hands all up and down his skin to make sure all the hairs are gone. “But what about my bum?”

Hyunwoo shuts the door behind him.

“Hyunwoo! My bum!?”

“YOU SAID IT WASN’T A DATE,” comes the shout from the end of the hallway. 

“CAN’T A GUY SHAVE HIS BUM HAIRS ON A FRIDAY NIGHT JUST TO FEEL ALIVE?”

“I’M LEAVING. TEXT ME WHEN YOU’RE HOME LATER.”

 

Kihyun picks him up in an oxblood Fiat 500 with tan leather seats, and the interior smells like cucumber melon. 

“Of course you have a car,” Changkyun groans, luxuriating in the feeling of heated leather beneath him as he rubs his hands over the leather-clad dashboard. He reaches to start fiddling with the fancy space-age knobs of Kihyun’s satellite radio and gps monitor, but Kihyun shoos him away. 

“I live in Long Island, of course I have a car,” Kihyun replies, making the turn onto 9th avenue to head downtown. 

“You  _ what _ ,” Changkyun blurts, hands stalling against the sweet sensation of textured leather. 

“Live in Long Island?” 

“You get to work at like 5am, how on earth do you live in Long Island?” Changkyun cries, flopping back against the smooth headrest and spreading his legs out under the glove compartment. 

“I take the 4:30 train,” Kihyun says, like that’s something casual, “and I’m not in at 5am; don’t exaggerate. It’s like...5:45.”

Changkyun moans and shakes his head wearily against the headrest. “Do you live on three hours of sleep?”

Kihyun stops at a light and shoots Changkyun a wary look. “More like six hours.”

Changkyun covers his face with his gloved hands and shrieks. “10:30?! You go to bed at 10:30?!”

Kihyun pulls off into a parking lot, where he takes a ticket that charges him $30 an hour to park. Changkyun stares at the ticket in baffled horror. 

“I haven’t really had any reason to stay up, of late,” Kihyun says finally, as he tugs Changkyun’s passenger side door open and holds his hand out. 

“Oh, I can change that,” Changkyun murmurs, sidling up to Kihyun against the side of the car, and Changkyun can smell the recent gloss of wax on the exterior. Like Kihyun cleaned his car for him. “I perform best under the full light of the moon.”

“Sorry, you said ‘perform’, and I got an oddly carnival-esque image in my head, but please, continue,” Kihyun replies, stepping away and nodding towards the sidewalk. He places a hand at the small of Changkyun’s back and keeps it there, warm and sturdy, until the two of them are taken to their seats at a fancy Japanese place that Changkyun is pretty sure he saw on Food Network. 

The decor is dark, heavily draped in black silk curtains, with framed calligraphy you can purchase, price written in tiny font below the pieces. The one beside their table says “PROSPERITY - $465” and Changkyun chokes on an ice cube. 

“Do you like beef? You eat meat?--sorry, I should’ve asked before,” Kihyun asks, paging through the menu before Changkyun has even opened it. 

“Yeah, I eat it,” Changkyun says, still staring around the restaurant in confused appreciation.

“Kobe skewers sound good?”

Changkyun looks down at his menu, squinting, finding the “skewers” selection and blinking. “Wow, this is cheap for Kobe beef. $8! How many in an order?” 

Kihyun drops his menu from in front of his face for a moment, smirking. “One, Changkyun. A single skewer.”

Changkyun slaps his menu to the table. “You mean to tell me that one single skewer of meat costs more than a foot long hoagie plus drink plus cookie at Subway?”

Kihyun blinks. “I--yes? Is that really worth comparing though? Listen, if you eat this and tell me it isn’t worth $8, I’ll take you to Subway everyday for a week.” 

“Deal,” Changkyun hisses, fervently determined to hate this meat with all his heart and soul.

“You want a Chirashi? It’s really the entire reason I come here. Comes with a buncha sides.”

Changkyun nervously flips to the sushi section of the menu and swallows down the throb of delicious want in his stomach. “It’s $50.”

“With sides,” Kihyun protests, grabbing Changkyun’s menu from him. “I thought you wanted this to be a business transaction. I’m providing you with expensive goods.”

“I was thinking more like maybe you buy me some groceries,” Changkyun croaks pitifully. 

“So you can, what? Eat ramen for another two weeks?” Kihyun arches an eyebrow, and Changkyun feels a different kind of delicious heat stirring. 

“I mean, if you wanna buy me some Whole Foods kombrewcha and miso-roasted parsnips, please, feel free,” Changkyun declares, batting his lashes and leaning his elbows on the table to dip the front of his loose pink sweater down over his clavicles. 

Kihyun’s eyes trace the sharp line of Changkyun’s shoulder and collarbone before flickering back up to his face. “I know you’re trying to seduce me, but since you just actually uttered the word ‘kombrewcha’, I feel very turned off.”

Changkyun huffs a laugh. “You know, this is feeling very much like a date.”

Kihyun turns as the waitress approaches their table. She’s a pretty girl--short, poised, with straight, natural dark hair. He hands her their menus, orders three Kobe beef skewers and two $50 Chirashi. The waitress looks over at Changkyun, whose face must show how aroused/appalled he is at their order, and she grins and walks away. 

“She’s not even Japanese,” Changkyun mutters, watching her walk away. 

“No one here is actually Japanese,” Kihyun replies. “And as for your previous comment about this feeling like a date, I’m not sure how a…”

“Sugar daddy,” Changkyun supplies.

“Right. How a,” he sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose between two thin pale fingers, “ _ that _ is supposed to behave.”

“Just spoil me.”

“Did you miss the $20 worth of fancy beef?”

Changkyun cradles his chin in his palms, elbows on the edge of the table. “No, I saw it.”

“Was the way I ordered too intimate for you then?” Kihyun asks, stirring around the ice in his water glass with his straw. 

“Just be a little more take-charge,” Changkyun suggests, “like the way you are when you bend me over your lap and spank me raw.”

Kihyun’s cheeks flush red, and he glances away at the wall of expensive calligraphy art. “It’s a headspace thing,” he replies. “I try not to let it carry too much into my everyday life. People find it very annoying.”

“But you’re a scorpio,” Changkyun protests.

Kihyun turns back, brows knitting together. “I’m a huh?”

“Nevermind. Just saying you can’t help how you are. And I find it incredibly sexy, you know,” Changkyun explains, running the pad of his index finger along his bottom lip, feeling where it had split a little in the middle from the cold. He draws his tube of strawberry chapstick from his pocket and glides it over the split a few times, making sure Kihyun is watching. “I believe the arrangement goes like this.” 

Kihyun rolls his eyes a little but leans in closer.

“You, the filthy old rich man--”

“Excu--”

“Who desires me, the equally filthy broke supple youth--”

“ _ Supple _ ?”

“Must convey your desire for me monetarily, and I repay you with my fresh young flesh.”

Kihyun groans and drops his head to the surface of the table miserably. “This is a bad idea. I take everything back.”

Changkyun slips his shoe off and lifts his foot under the table, pressing the sole of his socked foot to Kihyun’s inner thigh. 

“Watch it,” Kihyun says, suddenly serious.

Changkyun tips his head to the side innocently, sliding the sole of his foot closer inward, pressing lightly against Kihyun’s crotch beneath the black satin tablecloth. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

Kihyun practically growls Changkyun’s name but somehow keeps it at almost a whisper, like it’s just for him. Changkyun’s core vibrates. 

The waitress interrupts, but Changkyun doesn’t move his foot. He grins by way of thanks as she drops off their fancy beef on a stick. It doesn’t look all that impressive. Just beef on a stick. Changkyun is ready for all his free Subway as he snags one of the skewers from the serving tray and pops it all into his mouth.

Kihyun looks horrified as Changkyun chews an entire mouthful of nearly $10 beef strip. Changkyun is about to make an offhand comment about cramming meat into his mouth when the flavor hits.

Like the essence of beef melting on his tongue. Salty, savory, with just a hint of grilling charcoal. Changkyun’s lips fall open on a moan, and he flops back in his seat, head hanging over the back of his chair. 

“Dear  _ God _ above I’ve never before put anything so delicious in my mouth,” Changkyun wails, tears springing to his eyes. “All food is ruined for me now! How could you do this to me?”

Kihyun hands Changkyun a travel pack of tissues. “I’m not sorry. This is what a good... _ SD _ ...does for his baby, right? I’m showing you the good life.”

Changkyun toes Kihyun’s crotch under the table, a little more firmly. “While it won’t be nearly as tasty as what I just consumed, I can’t wait to get your fuckin’ business daddy cock in my mouth.  _ Christ _ above.”

Kihyun chokes into his water glass, trying to hide the now-aggressive flush of his cheeks. “Have the other two,” he says, strained, quiet, “ _ Baby _ .”

Changkyun takes his time now. Breaks the skewer into smaller pieces and lets the meat melt on his tongue like he should’ve the first time. He wonders if this is what taking ecstacy is like. Popping it onto your tongue and waiting for the immense almost-hallucinatory pleasure.

“We can leave now,” Changkyun says, resigned, licking the end of the skewer to get the last bit of meat flavor from the stick. “I’ll never find that kind of joy again.”

Kihyun is just smiling, watching him like he’s really enjoying himself. Changkyun preens under his attention, rubbing his foot over the length of Kihyun’s now (Changkyun is almost positive) hardening cock. 

“Just wait for the sushi. You’ll be ruined for all others in that regard too,” Kihyun says, nodding as their Chirashi bowls arrive at the table. They’re heavy stone bowls piled with sushi rice and slices of at least ten different types of raw fish. There’s a side of steamed egg and pickled vegetables and ginger tea.

“I don’t want the meat taste to go away,” Changkyun whines.

“If you’re good, I’ll order you another skewer for the road,” Kihyun says, lifting his chopsticks and plucking up a thick slice of tuna. “Though I am still going to punish you for your under-the-table indiscretion.” 

Changkyun snatches up a slice of salmon and dips it gently into some soy sauce. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Kihyun is right, of course, and Changkyun is ruined for any other sushi. Everything tastes fresh and light and clean, with just the right amount of vinegar taste in the rice. The ginger tea cleanses his tongue between each bite so he can enjoy each mouthful on its own. He’s scraping down the bowl of steamed egg when Kihyun finishes signing the bill. 

“Don’t forget your takeout box,” Kihyun says, as Changkyun buttons his coat. “You can eat that on the drive. It’ll take at least an hour to get to my place from here.”

“You don’t wanna just go to my place?” Changkyun whines, grabbing Kihyun by the sleeve. “It’s so much closer.”

“I have a King sized bed, and I want to tie you down to each of the four posts,” Kihyun responds, grabbing Changkyun’s seatbelt once they’ve climbed back into his sweet-smelling car. “I hope you’ll forgive the distance.” Kihyun possessively trails his fingers along the hem of Changkyun’s sweater as he presses the seatbelt buckle into the clasp.

Changkyun sinks down in the seat, tugging at his impossibly tight pants as his cock twitches. “Yes,” he mutters. 

“What was that?” Kihyun asks, handing the ticket booth worker a wad of cash and their parking slip. The guy waves them off and lifts the barrier, and Kihyun carefully turns onto the street. There’s something in the way he moves that makes Changkyun feel safe. Taken care of. It’s that innate quality he noticed from the very beginning, and Changkyun is pleased to realize he was right about Kihyun. What he lacks in size, in physicality, he makes up for in careful attention and a command for respect. 

“I said yes,” Changkyun mutters, louder this time, “Daddy.”

“Good boy,” Kihyun says, one hand tight on Changkyun’s thigh as he drives downtown, towards the bridge. “Feel free to nap for a bit if you want. I’m not a big car-talker. I like to pay attention to the road. Especially in this city.”

“Can I put something on?” Changkyun asks, pointing at the radio. When Kihyun nods, Changkyun flips through Kihyun’s preset stations. The first is a classical station (figures), the second is some kind of old jazz station (again, figures), and the third is public talk radio. There’s some kind of murder mystery story being told, so Changkyun leaves it on.

“You like NPR?” Kihyun laughs, sounding surprised.

Changkyun drops his seat back until he can only see the tops of the streetlights and Kihyun when he looks up. “I like being read to.”

Kihyun laughs, a warm, sharp, comforting sound. “Of course you do.”

Changkyun shuts his eyes and lets the smoothness of Kihyun’s driving and the monotone radio announcer’s voice lull him to sleep. He doesn’t know Kihyun all that well, he reminds himself, but he feels cocooned in safety somehow. 

When Changkyun opens his eyes again, Kihyun is shutting off the engine. “I was just about to wake you,” he says, flicking his headlights off and pocketing his keys. “We can just sleep if you want.”

Changkyun rubs hard at his face and adamantly shakes his head. “No way. I’m well-rested. I’m ready to be destroyed. Please, please destroy me.”

Kihyun snorts and climbs out of the car. “Follow me, then.”

Changkyun does, almost jogging to catch up to Kihyun as he keys open the front door of his place. It’s a  _ house _ , Changkyun realizes with a start. 

“You live in a  _ house _ .”

Kihyun laughs again and holds the door open for Changkyun to follow him inside. He runs his hand along the wall just inside the door until he fingers the lightswitch, turning on all the lights. There is a wide entryway and a dark wooden staircase leading up. “Yes, I live in a house.”

“How? How do you live in a house?”

“It’s my parents’ old house. This is where I grew up.”

“But aren’t you paying, like, a mortgage or whatever?”

“It’s cheaper than most NYC rent, but yes, I am,” Kihyun says, slipping his coat off his shoulders and hanging it on a wrought-iron coat rack by the door. He holds his hands out for Changkyun’s, hanging his up on another free hook. “The benefit is that I live where it’s quiet, and I have three bedrooms.”

“Three? Three bedrooms?” Changkyun squawks, following Kihyun into the kitchen. There are granite countertops lining one and a half walls, with a retro-style pastel blue fridge and matching stove, blender, stand mixer, and microwave. It looks newly renovated. There’s a matching granite island in the center of the kitchen, with a perfectly-placed wooden bowl of fruit in the middle. “This is like a real people living space.”

“Yes,” Kihyun replies, sounding more and more amused, “because I do, in fact, live here. And take care of it. Are you disappointed?”

“No,” Changkyun replies throatily, yanking at his waistband again. “I’m...aroused.”

Kihyun wheels around from the door of the fridge as he places their leftovers onto the bottom shelf. “Are you joking around or are you serious?”

Changkyun gestures to his crotch, and the thick outline of his half-hard erection through the dark denim. “I’m actually aroused by your domesticity.”

“Who the fuck are you?” Kihyun wonders aloud, shutting the fridge and striding over. Changkyun presses himself back against the cool surface of the granite island as Kihyun’s hands settle on his waist. 

“Can you kiss me?” Changkyun breathes, falling forward into Kihyun’s gravity. 

Kihyun looks nervous, but he presses in all the same. He kisses like well-contained fury, like a storm in a bottle, hands holding Changkyun’s jaw and angling his face to deepen the kiss. Changkyun lets his lips just part easily, their movements like thick humid air, and he lets Kihyun take him. Kihyun lifts him up onto the edge of the island counter, and Changkyun’s legs wrap eagerly around Kihyun’s waist.

Kihyun shoves them away from his body and pins Changkyun’s hips to the table as he yanks at his jeans. They come down to his knees easily and get trapped at his calves. 

“Can you invest in some sweats?” Kihyun jokes, but Changkyun makes a serious mental note of it. “Do you even own underwear?”

Changkyun pants up at the ceiling and fights to buck his hips up under Kihyun’s hands as he’s pinned. The granite is cold against his bare skin, and he shivers, goosebumps rising up over his thighs. The goosebumps might also be from the amount of thick arousal curling through Changkyun’s blood at the thought that he’s splayed out over Kihyun’s spotless, expensive, kitchen island. It smells like lemon cleaning fluid. Kihyun wrestles Changkyun’s jeans to the floor finally, and Changkyun feels his heavy hard cock hit his stomach with an embarrassing wetness. 

“God,” Kihyun breathes, tracing the underside of Changkyun’s cock with light fingertips. “You’re really aroused by this, huh?”

Changkyun just whines, wriggling his hips. 

“Don’t move. Hands above your head. Wrists together,” Kihyun hisses.

Changkyun falls still, obeying. His arms feel shaky as he pins his wrists together and tries to imagine them being bound so he won’t move them. He wants to be good, but he’s already so turned on, and the cool air of Kihyun’s kitchen is making Changkyun’s nipples hard and sensitive under the thick cotton of his sweater. 

Changkyun turns his head to the side and breathes out heavily as Kihyun sucks and bites at the insides of his thighs, marking them up with splotchy wet bruises. 

“Wait,” Changkyun says, staring at the retro pastel refrigerator again, “is that a  _ Smeg _ ?”

Kihyun laughs, breath hot and thick against Changkyun’s skin. “They’re all Smeg.”

Changkyun’s hips rut upwards, seeking Kihyun’s mouth again. “Oh  _ fuck _ , you have  _ Smeg  _ appliances.” 

“You really are one of the most fascinating creatures I’ve ever met,” Kihyun murmurs, tonguing the ridge at the head of Changkyun’s cock. Changkyun keens and arches up, hands scrambling against the cold stone but finding no purchase anywhere. “ _ Wrists _ .” 

Changkyun whines and brings his wrists back to cross over his head. “I’m cold.”

“Good,” Kihyun asserts, “because this is part one of your punishment.” And then there is that tight, almost furiously hot heat around Changkyun’s skin, and Changkyun is writhing, spine hard against the chilled granite as he fights to keep still. 

“Hurry it up,” Changkyun gasps, feeling the head of his cock hitting the back of Kihyun’s throat, before he adds desperately, “ _ please _ .”

There is the distinct sound of Kihyun ripping open the packet of lube before two fingers thrust into him at once. Changkyun yelps, hands grabbing to fist Kihyun’s hair. Kihyun stills his fingers. 

“Wrists.”

Changkyun huffs and binds his wrists again above his head, palms sweaty and thighs straining. “You suck,” he snips, as Kihyun scissors his fingers, brushing the pad of his middle finger against Changkyun’s prostate. Changkyun squeaks, and Kihyun continues with renewed vigor against that exact spot. Changkyun shrieks, the sound ringing in the quiet of Kihyun’s gorgeous, retro-style, expensive kitchen. 

Kihyun works in a third finger as Changkyun feels the twinge of release building. He’s never felt anything like it, the insistent tug at the base of his spine, like fire is being reeled up on fishing line. 

And then Kihyun pulls his fingers out, wipes the excess lube off on Changkyun’s thigh, and walks away. Changkyun stares up at the ceiling, his orgasm receding like a tsunami sucked suddenly back down, and there are trails of tears running from the corners of his eyes down to the surface of the counter. 

Kihyun’s footsteps are loud as he ascends the stairs. “Take your time then,” he calls back after himself. 

A door shuts at the top of the stairs.

Changkyun eventually slithers off the island and collapses onto his hands and knees, cock still straining between his legs. Changkyun watches, despondently, as a bead of precum drips from the slit and onto Kihyun’s gorgeous hardwood floors. He smears it, bitterly, beneath his sock and into the wood.

His legs are unsteady beneath him as he traverses the stairs. At one point, he drops his palms to the step above and crawls the last four stairs.  The first bedroom door is open, but the second, the one at the end of the hall, is closed. Changkyun turns the knob and presses the door open. A dim, warm orange light spills out into the hall. 

Changkyun steps into the room, and Kihyun is standing by the headboard, tying a deep forest green rope around the left post. 

“Onto the bed,” he says, voice barely raised enough for Changkyun to hear him. Kihyun is testing the loop knot against the sturdy wood post. Changkyun sees the other posts have the same loop about them, the ends of the deep green rope loose against the tidy charcoal gray duvet. 

The fabric is soft and thick beneath Changkyun’s palms as he climbs up onto the bed. Before Kihyun can say anything, Changkyun strips off his sweater and drops it beside the bed in a heap. Kihyun’s eyes follow the fabric, and narrow. 

“Hands and knees now,” Kihyun says. “No talking.”

Changkyun opens his mouth, and Kihyun lands a loud smack on the back of his thigh, just under the curve of his ass. Changkyun’s teeth dig hard into his bottom lip to keep his mouth shut, but a low groan still sounds from deep in his throat. 

“Good boy,” Kihyun breathes, reverently tracing the wave of Changkyun’s back, and Changkyun hoists his hips up under Kihyun’s touch, wiggling his ass to show it off under the dim lighting. Kihyun forms a slip loop knot around each of Changkyun’s ankles with the soft, silky rope. It’s surprisingly thin but very strong as Changkyun tests it with a short pull against the post. 

Changkyun watches the deftness of Kihyun’s dainty fingers as they form the slip knots and loop them around Changkyun’s wrists now. 

“How much do you like pain?” 

Changkyun’s breath comes in short pants as he considers his answer, the tip of his cock hovering just above the mattress, dripping, he’s pretty sure, onto the sheets. The rope digs into his skin just the right amount. 

“Don’t pull it too hard, or it’ll cut too deep into your skin,” Kihyun says, walking to his dresser and pulling open the bottom drawer. Changkyun keeps himself from looking, letting himself focus on the softness of the rope, the perfect texture of it against his skin, the feeling of the ceiling fan blowing air unevenly over him and creating soothing gray noise. Changkyun feels the calmness settling over him, feeling the odd sense of safety at his positioning, like he’s suspended--a bird on a wire, neither with feet on the ground or in the air. 

Kihyun comes back to the bed. “Pain tolerance, baby boy?”

“I’m not sure. I’ve been spanked a lot, but no one has had any formal...instruments,” Changkyun replies, skin prickling as he waits. 

“Do you like the stinging sort of pain or the thudding sort of pain?”

“Both?” 

Kihyun laughs, sweet and breathy like song. “Let’s try both, then.”

“Wha--”

The first hit comes and spreads tingling, biting nips of pain all along his back. Changkyun yelps. “Oh, that’s  _ good _ .”

“Perfect,” Kihyun replies, gripping the back of Changkyun’s neck and shoving his head down into the sheets. “Quiet now, and take what I give you. If it’s too much, use your safeword. Let me know if any of your limbs start burning. The knots shouldn’t be enough to cut off circulation too badly, but I have safety scissors if anything happens.”

“Get on it with, Daddy, I already almost came before, in the kitchen.”

“I know,” Kihyun says, and another hit comes from the flogger. The leather is soft, but it creates the most amazing kind of sensation on his skin. First, it stings, but then it settles into this gorgeous mist of heat over his skin. Like the kind of rain that burns with cold before it touches your warm skin. 

Changkyun focuses on the sensations as they come. Five hits come, and Changkyun’s skin tingles all over. There’s drool puddled under his chin, but Changkyun can’t help himself. It feels like he’s been draped in a blanket of fire. 

Five more hits come, and Changkyun’s hips keep swerving and rutting down against the sheets.

“Would you like to try the other one?” Kihyun asks, palm burning hot against Changkyun’s raw skin as he traces over his tailbone. 

“I  _ want _ you to fuck me,” Changkyun begs, hips circling in the air above the mattress. 

“That wasn’t my question,” Kihyun responds. 

“Yes, just anything,  _ anything _ , please.”

The next hit that comes is deep, resounding. It rings through the hollows of his bones like an echo in a long hallway. 

“What  _ is  _ that?” Changkyun moans, feeling the electricity of each hit as they bellow through him. 

“Paddle. Padded leather. Do you like it?”

Changkyun nearly barks out his next moan. His entire body feels raw, like he’s been sliced up with a serrated bread knife. Butterflied open down the center. 

“That’s good, that’s, fuck, ah, that’s fucking good, Daddy,” Changkyun gasps.

“Do you think you could come for me, baby?” 

“Not like this,” Changkyun cries, desperate for it, eyes burning as tears drip down his cheeks. “I need more, and I’ve been good, haven’t I? Haven’t I?”

There’s something dark and calm building at the base of Changkyun’s skull. Like a thick fog at midnight as you’re driving down a vacant highway. There is peace and exhilaration and unending, ever-stretching darkness.

“Yes,” Kihyun says, lips pressing to the reddened skin of Changkyun’s tailbone. “So good for me. So, so good.”

Changkyun arches up, barely registering anything but the feeling of fingers pressing back inside him, seeking his prostate until Changkyun can barely breathe from it. 

“I’m--” 

“Not yet.”

“But.”

“Just give into it, baby, just a little longer. Let me have you a little longer.”

Kihyun slips in a fourth finger, and the stretch of it burns even more from the rawness of his skin, and everything melts. Everything is liquid gold. Everything is going.

“Please,” Changkyun cries.

Kihyun crooks his fingers, and Changkyun clenches down around them. 

“That’s it, sweetheart, that’s it.”

Kihyun’s voice is like an angelic chord, and Changkyun finally snaps. Everything is gone. 

He comes to with Kihyun’s palm cradling his face. The ropes around his wrists and ankles are gone, and he’s lying on his back in the center of the bed. “You were so good.”

Changkyun’s lips form a smile. “I’ve never felt anything like that before.”

“You took quite a lot,” Kihyun replies, brushing away trails of dried tears on her cheeks. “Not many people last that long.”

“I meant the coming. You didn’t even... With my dick.”

“I was hoping you’d be able to come like that for me.”

“I wanted to be good for you.”

Kihyun smiles, all gentleness. “Can you be good for me again?”

Changkyun nods, licking away the chappedness of his lips. “I can be more than good.”

 

Changkyun’s limbs are like heavy stones. His muscles ache in places he’s never felt before. His stomach is coated in his own several orgasms, and Kihyun is running a bath in the adjoining ensuite bathroom. 

“You didn’t fuck me,” Changkyun says, still panting, still coming down from his last release. 

Kihyun had made Changkyun come until his orgasms were painful and empty. And only then had Kihyun let Changkyun suck him off. Just the once. 

“I was having fun elsewhere.”

“My ass isn’t fun enough for you?”

“I like to mix things up,” Kihyun says, the water shutting off abruptly. “Now come get clean. I need to strip the sheets.”

“Can’t I sleep now please? I feel like I’ve taken a shovel to the spine.”

“Bath. Now.”

“Fine. But when I get back, you’re going to tuck me in.”

“Should I read to you, too?”

“Now that you mention it, I think I’ve earned a story.”

“Get in the tub before I fill it with ice cubes and make you get in it anyway.”

Changkyun moves off the bed, and his legs collapse beneath him like he’s forgotten how to use them.

Kihyun peeks in from the bathroom. “Have an accident?”

“ _ Daddy _ ,” Changkyun bellows miserably. “ _ Carry me _ .”

Kihyun heaves a sigh, but the sound shifts into a very amused laugh. “Where did you  _ come from _ , Changkyun Im?”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: this is a beast and utter filth feat angst ???????  
> warnings: just...........just everything. don't read this.

“Baby,” Kihyun murmurs gently, brushing Changkyun’s fringe from his forehead. “Wake up.”

Changkyun rubs at his eyes with the heels of his palms and snuffles awake, cheek pressed to the cool glass of Kihyun’s passenger side window. “Huh?”

“We’re at the train,” Kihyun says, nodding through the opposite window at the tall concrete train platform. “Next one is coming in three minutes. You can use my rail pass. I’ll get a temporary one for Monday morning.”

“You could just drive,” Changkyun grumbles, voice still hoarse from all the orgasms. 

“You know I’m not gonna do that,” Kihyun asserts, unlocking the seatbelt from around Changkyun--he doesn’t remember buckling that--and pulling a thin LIRR pass from his wallet. “Text me so I know you got home safe.”

“If you really cared, you’d let me stay over,” Changkyun huffs, pushing the door open with his knee and clambering out, snatching the rail pass from Kihyun’s fingers. 

“You’ll earn the right to sleep in my bed,” Kihyun replies calmly, still gripping the wheel like a grandpa, with a hand at 10 and 2. 

The train horn blares in the near distance, and Changkyun miserably jogs up the steps to the platform to wait for it to stop. As he’s riding back to the city from Long Island, Changkyun wearily wonders if all the orgasms are really worth having to take the Long Island Railroad. 

 

On Tuesday, to apologize for the late-night LIRR ride, Kihyun buys Changkyun groceries. He takes him to Stop ‘n Shop, gets a full-sized cart (not one of the hand baskets!?), and he fills it with boxes of instant pasta (not ramen (“low sodium, Changkyun”)), vegetables, fruit (he throws the fruit cups packed with jello back onto the shelf with a huff, and Changkyun whines until he puts one pack back in the cart), and some meat. 

It rings up for $237. 

Changkyun stares at the receipt and then back up at Kihyun.

Kihyun drives him back to his apartment, and Changkyun leans over to unzip Kihyun’s fly as he stalls his Fiat in the small driveway between Changkyun’s building and the next. 

“You don’t have t--”

“Equal exchange,” Changkyun touts, feeling the warm velvet softness of Kihyun’s hardening cock between his fingers, surrounded by the sweet smell of cucumber melon and leather. He thumbs over the slit and then adjusts himself in the seat so he can take him into his mouth.

Kihyun cums with a fist coiled in Changkyun’s hair, yanking hard on his scalp, his radio blasting “Chelsea Bridge” by Duke Ellington (not that Changkyun would’ve known without the helpful satellite radio display). Kihyun’s lips find Changkyun’s after, and they’re lazy and hungry at the same time. Changkyun pants into Kihyun’s open mouth, his jeans tight against his crotch. 

“I’ll send you some recipes on Pinterest for those meats and veggies,” Kihyun says, later, in Changkyun’s kitchen, after they’ve put everything away. 

“Stay,” Changkyun begs, grasping for the front of Kihyun’s sweater, teeth nipping for Kihyun’s ears, where there are empty holes from a set of piercings Changkyun never noticed before. Kihyun’s hands find his hips and grip them tight, but he pushes away. 

“Equal exchange,” he reminds him. 

“Fuck.”

Changkyun slumps down against his bathroom door when Kihyun’s gone, gripping his cock and getting himself off with the scent of cucumber melon and leather and Kihyun still lining his sinuses. 

 

The following Friday, Kihyun takes Changkyun to Bergdorf’s. 

“I’ve never been in here in my life,” Changkyun admits, trailing after Kihyun through the perfume department, cosmetic department, and all the way across the women’s accessories department to the men’s section. “I was always afraid they’d charge me for breathing the rich people air.”

“Well, breathe it in, sweetheart. It’s on me,” Kihyun replies, plucking up a keychain. “Anything you need?”

Changkyun’s gut twists. He thinks of the elevators. Of the ads for rings and watches and chokers, things that cost more than Changkyun’s entire net lifetime worth. 

“How about that keychain?” he teases, assuming it must be the cheapest thing in the section. Kihyun drops it into Changkyun’s cupped palms, and Changkyun peers down at the little white price tag dangling between his fingers. “THREE HUNDRED NINETY-FIVE DOLLARS?!” 

Kihyun quickly brings an arm around Changkyun’s waist and presses Changkyun’s face into his shoulder, cooing through gritted teeth, “It’s  _ Givenchy _ , and please don’t make me regret bringing you here.”

Changkyun steps back and stares down at the black lanyard, studded with little metal stars. “This is like half my rent.”

“Do you want it?” 

Changkyun shakes his head and tosses it back onto its shelf. “How about a sweater?”

“You like Givenchy? We can go to another designer, if you like,” Kihyun says, gesturing around to the perfectly sectioned displays. “Bergdorf’s is your oyster, baby.”

Changkyun suddenly feels a strange stabbing sensation just under his ribs. It might be fulfillment. It might not be. But Changkyun strolls up to the Givenchy display and fingers the silky but thick wool of the first sweater he sees. 

“I want this,” he says, trying out the words.

Kihyun files through the hangers and hands Changkyun a small. Changkyun rolls his eyes, snagging the hanger away from Kihyun and hanging the size small back up, reaching for a large.

“You, baby boy, are no large,” Kihyun asserts, eyes roaming over the length of Changkyun’s frame.

Changkyun lifts his arms and waggles the loose ends of his sweater that hang over his hands at Kihyun. “In case you haven’t noticed, ‘oversized’ is my size. If it touches my body, it’s no good.”

Kihyun squints at Changkyun. “I just assumed you had some kind of disfigurement you wanted to hide.”

Changkyun swats at Kihyun, flicking at his forehead with a little  _ thwap _ . Kihyun looks affronted, but he’s smirking. Changkyun loudly declares, “You’ve seen me butt-fuckin’ naked, Kihyun Yoo.”

“Never in any kind of bright lighting. I could have overlooked something,” Kihyun retorts, both of them pointedly ignoring the glares of the three nicely-suited men standing by the other displays. 

“Let’s get home and lay me out under a bunch’a lamps then, huh?” Changkyun murmurs, folding the Givenchy sweater under his arm and knocking his hip against Kihyun’s on the way to the registers. 

“Can’t. Have to help Minhyuk get ready for the Offsite,” Kihyun says, gasping a little under his breath as Changkyun slips his hand into his back trouser-pocket to withdraw Kihyun’s thin leather wallet. The scent reminds Changkyun of Kihyun’s leather car seats. Of Kihyun’s warm skin on his tongue. He shivers.

“The off-what?” 

“The Team-building Offsite,” Kihyun repeats, sliding his thick metal Amex card into the chip reader. “Do you read your G-chats?”

“Only yours,” Changkyun coos, laying his head onto Kihyun’s shoulder and fluttering his lashes coyly. 

Kihyun bumps his hip to shove him a modest distance away. “Read your damn G-chats, Changkyun. Next Friday is the Team-building Offsite. We have a conference during the day to build morale--Minhyuk and the co-founders do this every year. Our Seoul office has one next Tuesday, and the San Francisco office has one the following Thursday. Our co-founders travel around to spread their vision, and we provide input on what’s going well at our office locations, what needs to be improved, whatever comes up.”

“On a Friday?” Changkyun pouts. “But that’s our day.”

“Would it help if I said it’s unlimited open bar afterwards? We usually start happy hour at Flatiron Pub, and someone inevitably suggests an afterparty or pub crawl.”

Changkyun presses tight to Kihyun’s side again as they’re exiting the store back onto 5th ave. “I can’t wait to see you drunk.”

“I don’t drink,” Kihyun says, stepping out into the street to flag down a cab. “I don’t like feeling out of control.”

“Just call an Uber,” Changkyun whines. “Take me to your place. Take my to  _ my  _ place.”

“I’m busy,” Kihyun laughs, just as the cab careens off into the bus lane to pick them up. 

“Equal exchange?”

Kihyun quirks a brow, tugging the back door of the cab open. “I’m already feeling very fulfilled by watching you suffer.” He leans in the open window of the passenger side to speak to the cabbie. “He’s going to -- ?”

Changkyun pouts and slides into the back seat. “Take me to 186th and Broadway.”

“You live in Brooklyn,” Kihyun says, as if Changkyun doesn’t know.

“I know,” he retorts, collapsing back against the cloth of the taxi seat. “I’m visiting someone who _will_ fulfil me.” Changkyun pulls the cab door closed. “Goodbye, Mr. Yoo.”

 

Hyungwon’s wearing a thick gray hoodie and black mesh basketball shorts when Changkyun rings the bell to his apartment.

Well, he rings all the bells, until he finds Hyungwon’s exact apartment unit.

Hyungwon leans in close to the camera, voice rough with sleep. “Changkyun?”

“Help me,” Changkyun screams directly into the speaker. There's a pause, but eventually Hyungwon screams back and jumps away from the camera like a man who's pressed his entire palm to the surface of an induction stovetop and waited until the pain registered to finally react.

"How did you find me," Hyungwon gasps, peering around himself like there might be cameras. "Changkyun, are you with the Feds?"

"What? No, I just need you to tell me what to  _ wear _ ."

Hyungwon's apartment is exactly the way Changkyun would've pictured it if he'd ever pictured it, which he hasn't. Though, maybe once, when he was hotboxed in his classmate's Jeep Wrangler, and he was like  _ hm, I bet Hyungwon knows the good koosh, I wonder if he could hook me up or maybe if he'd have an apartment fulla bongs _ .

Hyungwon, sadly, does not have an apartment of bongs and smoking paraphernalia, but he  _ does _ have a 70" flat screen with 4K HDR.

"Holy shit, you're  _ rich _ ?!"

Hyungwon glances behind his back as Changkyun toes off his shoes in the entryway. There's a little alpaca welcome mat outside Hyungwon's apartment, and the scent wafting from behind the doors is definitely  _ the good koosh _ .

"I have a sugar daddy," Hyungwon says, shrugging.

Changkyun collapses to his knees inside the doorway, gripping Hyungwon's jeans at the ankles as he gazes wistfully up at his coworker/new friend. "So you know then? The life we're forced to lead." He's shaking his head pitifully as he speaks, as if the words he speaks are truly dishonorable, despicable. "It's just inhumane. The -- the fact that we get a nice sweater or some fancy sushi and then, then we gotta  _ wait _ for some schmuck to  _ decide  _ if he's  _ got time _ to fuck us? What's that about, man? You know? It's just like...you think the Supreme Court would hear my case? It's just fucked  _ up, dude.  _ Like, you think about it, it's like what if I would rather have the orgasms than the sweater?"

Hyungwon leans over a little, peering directly into Changkyun's eyes. "Bro, are you tripping right now? Cause this is a purely medicinal household. None of that molly shit here."

Changkyun blinks. "But you said--the daddy? You're rich. Because of Daddy?"

Hyungwon tips his head back, pondering that, like he's forgotten he spoke. "Oh, the joke? That's what I tell people to freak 'em out. Nah, man, this is all mine. I made that app that's like Uber but for dogs."

"You made  _ Puüpper _ ?"

"Yeah, I didn't name it that dumb shit, but, yeah. I made that as my grad project in high school."

"What the even fuckidy, Hyungwon? Why are you an intern at SevenX? You're, like, loaded. And also probably a genius?"

Hyungwon pulls Changkyun's hands off his ankles and walks over to the fridge. "You want a beer?"

Changkyun shakes his head. "I hate beer, honestly. Bubbly piss water."

Hyungwon looks down at his beer. "He didn't mean that," Hyungwon lovingly murmurs, pushing the cap off with a pocket bottle opener. "You want wine? I think I've got some red somewhere in here. You know you can get wine at Trader Joe’s? They've got  _ boxes _ of wine. How funny!"

Changkyun crawls after him and winds his arms between Hyungwon's legs, letting himself be dragged along like a child as Hyungwon moves through the kitchen. He's got an entire wall of counter space, and full-sized appliances. "I can't believe you're rich. Why do you dress like a vagabond like I do? You could shop at  _ Bergdorf's _ . They sell keychains that cost as much as all the furniture in my apartment combined."

"You've been to Bergdorf's?" Hyungwon asks, filling a little stemless wine glass from a box of red wine in his cabinet.

Changkyun nervously crinkles his Bergdorf's bag in his hand, crumpling the nice paper. "Uh...no?"

Hyungwon hands Changkyun the wine, Changkyun abandoning his Bergdorf’s bag by the door, and then Hyungwon waddles them away. Changkyun is still koala'd to Hyungwon's legs, holding the wine glass to his lips so that when it spills a little in motion, it will spill into his mouth and not onto the floor. It's a nice full-bodied red. Trader Joe's. Who would've thought.

"So, Changkyun," Hyungwon says, grabbing him under the armpits and hauling him up onto his nice leather loveseat like one might toss a dirty piece of laundry on top of a pile.  The loveseat reclines electronically. Electrically? It's got buttons on it, and a USB port, and surround-sound speakers in the headrest. "You found my apartment, how?"

"I found your Soundcloud account, and you had private messaged someone last year with your address so they could send you a demo tape or something. I can’t believe you’re a DJ too. You’re so cool. Can we be best friends? Jooheon used to be my best friend, but now he acts better than me.”

“Okay, so, what you’re saying is … you hacked my social media, found my address, and showed up at my apartment unannounced,” Hyungwon says slowly, lips puffing out as he forms the words. “You must really love me.”

“Technically, it’s not  _ hacking _ , and I expected more from you, Mr. Silicon Valley,” Changkyun huffs, daintily sipping the wine. 

“So you invaded my privacy regardless and found my home. Why? Why are you here?” Hyungwon sits across from him in a nice brown-leather Dad Chair™, looking every bit the young millionaire he is. 

“I told you,” Changkyun declares, chugging the last remnants of wine from his glass and holding it needily out to Hyungwon again. 

Hyungwon grabs it and strides back to the kitchen on his stick legs to refill the glass. “What? The thing about your Daddy?”

“Huh? Oh, shit, I really said that out loud, didn’t I? No the part about me needing to know what to wear. Did you know we have a Team-building Offsite next Friday?” 

Hyungwon returns, hands Changkyun the wine, and he nurses it against his lips as Hyungwon takes a seat again. “Yeah, they do it every six months. For morale, or whatever. I think only Minhyuk really cares about that kind of thing--office ‘culture’ or whatever. Our co-founders don’t really get it. It’s not really a thing in Korea. Well, I can’t really comment on it but--”

“Our co-founders are Korean?” Changkyun sits up, elbows on his knees as he leans forward.

“Do you know anything about SevenX?” Hyungwon sighs, pulling a thin black pen vape from his pocket and taking a draw from it. Changkyun makes grabby hands at him desperately, but Hyungwon shakes his head. “Medicinal household, Changkyun.”

“What? Why do you get it?” Changkyun whines. 

“I have anxiety,” Hyungwon states.

Changkyun huffs and pulls his socked feet up onto the couch cushion, wrapping his arms around his knees. “I really don’t know anything about the company. I took this job because my school counselor told me I need better things on my resume than working at the school cafe. And because I thought my best friend worked there, but Jooheon never has time for me.”

“To be fair, Jooheon has the hardest internship in the company. I don’t envy him.”

“But Minhyuk clearly  _ adores _ him,” Changkyun protests. 

“And Jooheon does everything for him. I mean  _ everything _ , Changkyun.”

Changkyun gasps sharply, cupping his hands over his mouth in shock. “Is he  _ prostituting _ himself?”

Hyungwon gags on smoke and takes a few seconds to settle down before replying, “What the fuck? No. I mean he gets Minhyuk’s dry cleaning and sets up Minhyuk’s dates and shit.” 

“He sets up his dates,” Changkyun repeats, heartbroken. “Oh, my poor  _ HoneyBee _ .”

Hyungwon chuckles, smoke bubbling up from his lips. “Yeah, it’s rough. But back to you. You have a Daddy, hm?”

Changkyun nibbles at his own bottom lip. “I did a bad?”

“Don’t talk to me like  _ I’m _ your daddy, Changkyun. Just level with me. It’s Kihyun, isn’t it?”

Changkyun squawks. “First of all, how  _ dare you _ ! This is just how I talk! Second of all -- I have no second of all. Yes, you’re right.”

Hyungwon tucks his vape back into his hoodie pocket and nods sagely. “You stare at him a lot, you know.”

Changkyun wheezes out a resigned sigh. “It’s hard not to.”

Hyungwon tips his head to the side. “Is it? I have to admit, I’m a little surprised. That guy who is always picking you up--”

“Hyunwoo.”

“--yeah, him. He’s so... _ big _ ?”

“He’s like my brother.”

“You introduced him to me as ‘the guy who took my virginity,’ so I really hope that’s some kind of weird Changkyun joke.”

“Okay, he’s not  _ really  _ my brother. He was my older brother’s best friend growing up. When my brother … anyhow, circumstances happened, and Hyunwoo was basically adopted by my mom. And he’s always hovering around me protectively.”

“He’s pretty hot,” Hyungwon says.

“Yeah, I know.”

“Kihyun, no offense -- but he doesn’t really scream  _ Daddy _ to me, you know? I’ve worked with him a bunch, and he’s just very…”

“What? Small?”

“I was going to say  _ frustratingly particular _ ,” Hyungwon answers thoughtfully. “But the small thing also seems out of character.”

“I can read Daddy vibes, Hyungwon. Trust me. I knew the first time I looked at him that Kihyun Yoo would fuck me to Where the Sidewalk Ends,” Changkyun exclaims. “And I was right. God, Hyungwon, the way he just--”

“Please, not in my house. Don’t use Shel Silverstein that way. I don’t need these images ingraining themselves in my walls. I’m happy for you, but I’m also concerned. May I voice my concerns?” Hyungwon asks, bouncing his knees as he sits in his leather armchair. 

“I suppose we’ve got time, sure.”

“He’s your superior, Changkyun. This is a very highly-coveted internship. I don’t know if you know that. If you’re working here when the company goes public, I mean, you know, you could make a lot of money. It would be like Facebook all over again,” Hyungwon explains. “So the prestige of having Kihyun Yoo as your sugar daddy might be fulfilling now, but if it’s the money you want--”

“It… it isn’t, really,” Changkyun admits.

“What?”

“I mean, I could care less about the money, honestly. I like it. Money, you know. I like the idea of it, at least.”

“You’re always staring at those diamond ads in the elevator.”

“Blood diamonds,” Changkyun hisses disgustedly. 

“Sure. What I mean is. Then what’s going on? He  _ does _ give you money, right?”

“He buys me things, yeah. And he’s transferred me a couple hundred dollars for textbooks. But I’d fuck him even without all that.”

“You like him?”

“What?” Changkyun’s breath is knocked from his lungs like he’s taken a baseball bat to the chest. “No. I just like the way he fucks me. He’s just the kind of dom I’ve always wanted. No one has ever handled me so well.”

“We’re veering into potentially scarring territory here for me, Changkyun. Can we just summarize quickly?” 

Changkyun presses his fingertips up to the base of his throat, feels the ghost impressions of Kihyun’s own fingers there, the way he holds Changkyun over the precipice of  _ too much _ so delicately and carefully until Changkyun’s lungs fill with hummingbird feathers. He knows how to press against Changkyun’s veins instead of his windpipe, knows just the right way to torture him. 

“I mean he takes care of me in a way I need. I’ve never felt anything like it before.”

“So you like him.”

“No. Stop saying that. It’s just sex.”

“And money.”

“Whatever. Yeah. And money. But, God, Hyungwon, he’s the real deal. The things he can do with his  _ hands _ .”

“Okay, that’s enough. Yepp. Now I’m fucked up. I gotta call out on Monday. I’m supposed to show Kihyun a new design for the mobile website. I can’t do it now,” Hyungwon croaks miserably.

“You make our website too? I thought you were customer support.”

Hyungwon shrugs, draping his legs over the arm of his chair and leaning his back over the other arm. “I took this job because I believe in the message. I pretty much do whatever they ask me to do.”

“Team Ace.”

“Huh? No, that’s Kihyun. He does literally everything.”

“What does Minhyuk do?”

“Public appearances, mostly, these days. He’s the face that gets us the support money.”

“Kihyun is prettier,” Changkyun huffs.

“Yes, we get it, Changkyun. Your loins are aflame for our COO. Back to you not knowing what this company even does.”

“Let’s not. How about, instead, you tell me about this Offsite, and what I should wear for optimal Me Getting Fucked Afterwards,” Changkyun declares. 

Hyungwon groans, head tipped back, face filling out with pink color as the blood rushes into his head. “I regret speaking to you that day.”

Changkyun launches himself into the chair atop Hyungwon, coiling his limbs around him like a lonely cephalopod, nuzzling in close. “ _ Hyungwonnie _ . I need you. Help me, Hyungwonnie! You’re my only hope.”

“Do you even know what that quote is from?”

Changkyun picks his head up, strokes his chin. Shrugs. “Some nerd shit, I dunno.”

“Get out of my house.”

 

The Wednesday before the Offsite, Changkyun stays late. He had let his inbox fill up unreasonably so he’d have a reason to do so. And now it’s nearly 9 pm, and he still has 35 emails to reply to. Kihyun is standing in his office, obviously, doing his weird little lunges to keep his legs from stiffening up. 

Changkyun peeks his head in at 9:15, having watched Kihyun’s thighs straining in his work trousers for the last 15 minutes while suffering thoroughly, silently. “Can I come in, please?”

Kihyun doesn’t even look away from his computer. Changkyun’s thirst just grows at being ignored, his mouth filling with saliva. 

“Daddy?”

Kihyun’s lips quirk at the corners, but he doesn’t say anything. 

Changkyun ducks down beneath Kihyun’s desk from the front, climbing between the legs to position himself in front of Kihyun where he stands. His hands slide up Kihyun’s thighs as his knees hit the wood floor. “Daddy?”

Kihyun continues typing. 

So it’s a challenge, is it?

Changkyun presses his cheek against Kihyun’s crotch over the layer of scratchy wool. It’s abrasive against his skin, but Changkyun enjoys the way he hears Kihyun’s breath catch in his throat. 

Kihyun’s fingers stall over the keyboard but then continue typing. 

Changkyun lifts up a little, fingers fumbling with the little metal button and thin zipper. He slips his fingers inside and works Kihyun’s cock free through the hole in his boxer shorts without sliding any of the material down from his hips. 

Kihyun’s phone rings. It’s past 9, and Kihyun’s work phone is ringing. Like the person knows Kihyun will be there to answer, even this late. For some reason, that makes Changkyun feel both proud and miserable. Kihyun works so hard. Gives everything and takes so little.

Changkyun runs his fingertips all over the warm skin of Kihyun’s dick, feeling it twitch and harden with each gradually-firmer touch. 

Kihyun’s breath is even, his words clear as he answers the phone. “Kihyun Yoo”

Changkyun presses the tip of his tongue to the little vein running up the underside and then dips it into the slit to taste Kihyun. Kihyun told Changkyun just last week that he gives the sloppiest head he’s ever had. But he said it so kindly but so roughly, like it truly wrecked him to watch Changkyun. 

Changkyun wants him to watch again. Wants him to take a  _ break _ for one goddamn second.

“Yeah, I got your email,” Kihyun is saying, as Changkyun sucks the head of his cock between his lips slowly. Kihyun’s breath puffs out harder. “I got you a new flight. You’ll get in at 7am, but it’s better than nothing, right? Yeah, you’re staying right by the Offsite location, so you can just drop your shit off and-- _ fuck _ .”

Gotcha. 

Changkyun’s dipped down, mouth slick and wet and sloppy as he starts bobbing his head. There’s precum and spit dripping down over his lips and chin, but it feels good with the weight of Kihyun on his tongue, with the sounds of Kihyun’s breath being forced harder from his lungs as he tries to speak. His voice sounds thick with restraint.

“Oh, sorry, I. One of my programs froze. Everything’s fine,” Kihyun pants, working one hand into Changkyun’s hair, stroking the strands. Petting the soft skin just behind his ears where his jawline ends. 

Changkyun shivers, grips the base of Kihyun’s hard cock, and gags himself on it deep. There are tears heavy on his eyelashes now, but everything feels good. The way Kihyun cradles his jaw and brushes his delicate, dainty fingers through Changkyun’s hair reverently as he lets Changkyun work himself over the hot, thick skin of his cock...all of it.

“No, no, it’s okay. Is Jeonghan meeting you at the hotel? Okay, yeah, I-- _ shit _ \--oh, no, _ ah, ngh _ , sorry, that’s...just my computer. I’m … no I’m not running. I’m just tired. Everything is-- _ God _ .”

Changkyun fights the urge to giggle. The sound bubbles at the back of his throat, and he chokes a little with Kihyun still hard against his tongue. Kihyun must feel the vibrations because he hisses between his teeth. “I gotta call you back. I’ll email you your itinerary.”

Kihyun drops the handset back into the cradle of the office landline phone and immediately grips his hands into Changkyun’s hair, forcing his face up into the light. “You’re so bad, Changkyun.”

Changkyun shakes his head, lips still stretched wide around Kihyun’s cock, eyes rolling up to meet Kihyun’s, and they’re blown out and dark. 

“You just can’t stand when I’m too busy for you, can you?” Kihyun laughs, hooking his thumbs into the sides of Changkyun’s lips and pulling his mouth even wider open, and Changkyun just goes lax in his hold. Just lets Kihyun take over, fuck into his mouth like he deserves. Changkyun moans, face soaked with tears and spit, with the world fuzzy and blurring at the edges. “Such a bad, bad little slut, aren’t you?”

Changkyun’s head swims, filling with fog and the heady scent of Kihyun’s skin. The taste of him on his tongue. The way Kihyun’s face softens as he watches Changkyun take everything, even as his jaw clenches with each thrust into Changkyun’s mouth. Kihyun pulls himself out, and Changkyun gasps for air, panting. 

“Fuck me,” Changkyun whines. “Please. Please, please, I  _ need it _ ,  _ please _ .”

Kihyun hooks his thumbs into Changkyun’s lips again and waits for Changkyun to open for him. He fucks back into his mouth, and Changkyun groans, gagging. “No.”

Changkyun whines, shifting on his knees, clawing at the wool of Kihyun’s trousers. 

“Why should I reward you? No one ever taught you manners, have they, baby? So needy. So bad,” Kihyun pants, rutting into Changkyun’s mouth. He pulls out once, and Changkyun is about to whine another complaint when Kihyun says, “Take a deep breath, baby boy.”

And Changkyun’s protest dies in his throat. He breathes.

And then Kihyun drags Changkyun down over his cock until his nose is pressed to the clean-smelling skin just above Kihyun’s cock. He leaves Changkyun there for a few seconds then pulls off again. Changkyun once again goes to plead, to beg, and Kihyun commands him to take another breath.

And, again, Changkyun does.

Kihyun holds Changkyun’s head down over his cock again, longer this time. Changkyun’s head goes light, like he’s in some childhood contest to hold your breath beneath the surface of the heavily chlorinated pool water. Fifteen seconds. Thirty seconds. 

Breathe.

And again.

Changkyun’s jeans are so tight, his skin is so tight, even his skeleton is too tight. 

He barely registers when Kihyun’s hips jerk and then fall still as he cums. Changkyun swallows on instinct and then falls forward onto his hands on the floor, gasping deeply. His cheeks are wet with tear tracks, his lips chapped and swollen, and his boxers are damp with precum.

“Please,” Changkyun says again, voice barely sounding like anything. 

“Tell me you’re sorry.”

Changkyun looks up from under his sweaty bangs, eyes wide and bloodshot. He nods adamantly. “So sorry, Daddy. I’m so sorry. You just work so hard, and I wanted you to take a break and feel good and--”

“Hey, shh, baby,” Kihyun says, dropping to sit in front of Changkyun on the floor. “C’mere, baby boy, it’s okay. It’s okay.”

Changkyun realizes he’s crying.

Kihyun tips Changkyun’s head, coaxes his lips into a deep kiss. Changkyun reaches for him, and Kihyun pulls Changkyun into his lap, cradling him, palming at his cock through his jeans. 

“That’s my good boy,” Kihyun says, “Take what you need.”

Changkyun arches up into the touch, uncaring that the zipper of his jeans is rough and hard against his dick as he frots against Kihyun’s hand. “More, please, I--”

Kihyun shakes his head. “Take what I give you.”

Changkyun whimpers, bending his knees and rocking his hips up over and over, letting the light pressure and friction build up in his core until it shoots through every vein, down to every nerve in his body. He cries out, fingers digging into Kihyun’s shoulders as he cums right into his boxers with just the touch of Kihyun’s palm, Kihyun’s voice telling him to give in and take what he’s given.

Changkyun sags in Kihyun’s lap, head dropping against Kihyun’s chest. He grabs Kihyun’s sweater and holds on for dear life as he shakes through the aftershocks of his orgasm.

“Thank you,” Changkyun says. “I’ll be better. I’ll do better for you.”

 

Jooheon meets Changkyun outside the ballroom where their Offsite is taking place on Friday morning, holding a tray with four coffees. 

“Good morning,” Jooheon says.

“Stop talking to me like I’m a pest,” Changkyun replies bitterly.

Jooheon’s lips purse, and he bites at the inside of his cheek. “I’m just stressed.”

Changkyun’s anger crumples into sorrow. He tries to press himself against Jooheon’s side in a pseudo-hug, since Jooheon has to hold the cardboard coffee tray. “I love you, HoneyBee. I’m sorry you’re stressed. I know I haven’t been helping.”

Jooheon squints at him as he pulls back from the hug. “Who are you and what happened to Changkyun Im?”

“I’m having a revelation,” Changkyun admits.

“I’m not sure that’s the correct word for it, but I’m glad,” Jooheon says, right as Minhyuk strides up, chatting with another vaguely familiar guy with long hair tied at the base of his skull in a little ponytail. There’s another man a few feet behind them, with his back turned, his cellphone pressed tightly to his ear. 

“Ah, my Honey,  _ thank you _ ,” Minhyuk cries, snagging a coffee from the cardboard tray and handing it to the man beside him. “Jeonghan, there you go. Hoseok’s is here, too, when he stops being a worrywart about the CitiBank deal.”

“Hoseok…” Changkyun repeats, shifting his gaze back to the broad-shouldered guy on his phone. He turns around, tucking his phone back into his jacket pocket, and Changkyun’s breath oozes out of his entire body. “ _ Hoseok _ .”

“What?” Jooheon says, glancing between Changkyun and the approaching figure. “Wait.  _ The _ Hoseok from two summers ago? That’s...that’s  _ this _ Hoseok?”

Changkyun’s words catch in his throat. 

“You fucked the  _ co-founder _ ?” Jooheon hisses.

“He told me he was in coding, I didn’t know a lot of Korean, I didn’t know he--”

“The  _ co-founder,  _ Changkyun.”

Hoseok walks up, rubbing at his face, not noticing Changkyun yet. Changkyun’s stomach swoops low, turning to painful sludge in his body. 

“Maybe he won’t remember me. It was only a couple months.”

Hoseok takes the coffee Minhyuk hands him, groaning. “You’re a lifesaver.”

“Don’t thank me,” Minhyuk replies, gesturing to Jooheon. “Thank my Honey.”

Hoseok finally drops his hand from his face, and he smiles at Jooheon. His gaze slides to Changkyun. He chokes on hot coffee.

Changkyun feels as if he’s choking on hot coffee also.

“Your...interns,” Hoseok says. “You...the interns?”

Jooheon’s eyes squinch shut, and he heaves out a huge sigh. 

“What’s wrong Honey?” Minhyuk murmurs.

Jooheon just shakes his head.

Changkyun can’t look away from Hoseok. Hoseok forces a smile onto his face. “Life really is strange,” Hoseok says.

“Should we go inside?” Kihyun calls, from the steps. 

Changkyun jerks his head, moving to look at Kihyun. Kihyun’s eyes find his, and he smiles gently. Changkyun’s heartbeat steadies a little. 

“Nice to meet you,” he says, nodding his head a little at Hoseok. “I’m going to go inside.”

He sprints up the steps and finds Hyungwon already seated at a table in the ballroom, in front of one of the two giant projection screens. 

“So I have a funny story,” Changkyun whispers, leaning to drop his cheek on Hyungwon’s arm as he plays a modified Candy Crush that he built himself that features ramen packets instead of candy. “About how I fucked the co-founder two summers ago in Seoul when I studied abroad.”

Hyungwon doesn’t stop playing, just bellows a sharp laugh. “Oh Changkyun Im, you never disappoint me.”

 

The Offsite conference starts with speeches from Jeonghan and Hoseok, the co-founders. Changkyun can’t focus, his legs bouncing under the table in a panic. He keeps darting glances over to Kihyun. Then back to Hoseok. 

What would Kihyun think if he knew Changkyun’s previous dom had been their company founder? His  _ boss _ ?

He’d probably cut Changkyun off.

Changkyun’s teeth start chattering. He feels sick. 

“Bro,” Hyungwon says, dropping a big, heavy hand onto Changkyun’s thigh. “You’re gonna break the floor.”

“I think I’m gonna throw up,” Changkyun says, sliding his chair back and rushing from the ballroom to the men’s room. He hides himself in a stall, drawing in deep breaths, shutting his eyes, picturing himself somewhere quiet, somewhere calm.

“Changkyun.”

There’s a knock on his stall door. Changkyun’s peaceful reverie is broken.

It’s Hoseok. With his slightly nasal deep voice. The one that used to chime out  _ Oh, lovely baby, cum for me _ .

“Please talk to me,” Hoseok says, knocking again.

“I’m shitting,” Changkyun lies.

“I can see that your pants are still on all the way, Changkyun.”

“Stop peering under the stall door, you  _ pervert _ .” Changkyun pulls the stall door open and faces Hoseok again. He looks much older now. He’s filled out even more. If he was big before, he’s absolutely monstrous now. Changkyun can’t help the way his gut tightens at the sight of his shirt straining over his arms, his chest. 

He’s bigger than Hyunwoo now.

Just his type. Always was.

“Did you get a job at my company on purpose?” Hoseok asks, and Changkyun hadn’t even thought of that. Hadn’t even thought that Hoseok might’ve assumed Changkyun took this job to see him again. Even though Changkyun is the one who never emailed or called or texted Hoseok back after he left Korea.

“I didn’t even know it was your company,” Changkyun replies, but Hoseok doesn’t look like he believes him.

“My picture is on the website, Changkyun.”

“I’ve never been on the website. I honestly barely know what this company does.”

Hoseok laughs, and it’s so painfully, gut-wrenchingly familiar that Changkyun feels sick again. “Changkyun,” Hoseok huffs, amused and endeared. 

“No,” Changkyun says, “no. I’m serious. I didn’t know you were the co-founder. I really didn’t. And no one can know we fucked.”

“We didn’t just  _ fuck _ , Changkyun.”

“Yes,” Changkyun asserts. “We did. That’s all we did, Hoseok.”

“You met my  _ parents _ .”

“Because you ambushed me. I didn’t have a choice.”

“Changkyun,” Hoseok says, sounding frustrated, voice strained and tight now. “Is this about your brother?”

Changkyun’s vision goes blurry, and he shoves at Hoseok’s chest, ducking around him and leaving the bathroom. 

Hoseok chases after him, tries to grab Changkyun by the back of his blazer. 

Kihyun is standing by the doors, on his cellphone. He sees Changkyun, sees Hoseok, and his brows pull together. He mouths something into his phone and then ends the call, stepping forward. 

“Something wrong?” he asks, glancing between Hoseok and Changkyun.

“I was checking on your intern,” Hoseok lies, which Changkyun is moderately appreciative of, “since he sounded sick in the restroom.”

Kihyun stares at Changkyun. “You okay, Changkyun?”

“Yeah,” Changkyun mutters, dropping his gaze guiltily to his feet. If he looks at Kihyun now, he feels like he’ll spill everything. “Just coffee on an empty stomach, you know.”

Kihyun nods in understanding. “Hoseok, it’s almost time for the co-founder Q&A. You ready?”

Hoseok straightens his skinny pale blue tie. “Ready as I’ll ever be, I guess. I want to talk later,” he says, to Changkyun.

Changkyun doesn’t reply. Doesn’t even nod.

Hoseok gives a sad little sigh and walks back into the ballroom. People clap for him. Cheer as he gets up on stage.

“Changkyun,” Kihyun says, gently, sweetly.

“That isn’t what this is about,” Changkyun retorts, panic swelling in his chest, clogging up in his throat. He doesn’t even know what he’s arguing against, but he shoves Kihyun’s hand away as it tries to settle on his arm. “It’s only sex.”

And he storms back into the ballroom, clutching for Hyungwon’s arm as he zones out for the next two hours. 

There are a few team-building games. One where they have to build the longest motivational phrases with a handful of random Scrabble tiles. One where they build their own Pong games with basic HTML and CSS and Javascript. Changkyun watches as Hyungwon constructs an intricate pong game with an old Spice Girls youtube video playing as the background, little Changkyun heads with kitty ears as the pong balls. Changkyun accidentally makes his players the same size as the game board, and the ball bounces back and forth into infinity.

A perfect metaphor for his neverending mistakes.

“I can tell you’re thinking something emo, Changkyun Im,” Hyungwon hisses, nudging Changkyun in the tummy. “Snap out of it. It’s almost happy hour. Unlimited drinks for two hours.”

Changkyun’s lips quiver. “Thank you. You really know what to say to make me feel better. A frog angel. A gorgeous and pure amphibian.”

“You’re so annoying,” Hyungwon laughs in reply.

 

Changkyun does make it to happy hour. He’s nearly first in line for the bar, too, dragging Hyungwon with him. 

“I don’t drink,” Hyungwon says. 

“What is  _ with _ you people and  _ not drinking _ ?” Changkyun cries, grabbing his whiskey ginger from the bartender and taking the one he’d ordered for Hyungwon promptly for himself. He sips from both drinks in tandem, little black cocktail straws tucked between his lips. 

“This is still a work event, you know,” Hyungwon says.

“Yeah whatever,” Changkyun grits out, chugging one of the whiskey gingers and dropping the glass back onto the bar surface. 

He looks over, and Jooheon is taking tequila shots with Minhyuk and Jeonghan.

“They used to date,” Hyungwon says, nodding over in their direction. 

“Who? Minhyuk and Jeonghan?”

Hyungwon nods again. 

Changkyun watches as Minhyuk giggles at something Jeonghan says, and Jooheon secretly shoots back another shot. 

“Oh no,” Changkyun blurts. “Jooheon is  _ such _ a lightweight.”

“This is probably why they used to exclude interns from the Offsite in past years,” Hyungwon observes, as Jooheon’s cheeks slowly flush pink, and he orders another shot. 

“I need to save him,” Changkyun exclaims, chugging his second drink and rushing over to the bar. 

“Sure,” Hyungwon mutters, trailing nervously after him. “That’s what you’ll do.”

Jooheon hooks his fingers around Changkyun’s arm and holds him tightly. “Kyunnie,” he whimpers. “I’m drunk.”

“I know,” Changkyun says gently, petting Jooheon’s fluffy soft hair. “You’re so good and pretty, my HoneyBee.”

Changkyun feels Minhyuk’s gaze flickering over to them. Changkyun leans in close to Jooheon, letting his lips brush the soft shell of Jooheon’s ear as he whispers, “Do you need to go home? Are you okay?”

Jooheon nods, wrinkling his nose. “Kyunnie. I need help.”

Changkyun tugs Jooheon away from the bar (after ordering them one more round of shots, finishing off with a bite of lime wedge to cleanse his palate), and they go stand by one of the tall wood beams with coat hooks. “What’s wrong?”

“Changkyun, I  _ like him _ ,” Jooheon whimpers.

Changkyun cups Jooheon’s soft pillowy cheeks in his hands and shakes him a little, his squishy face bobbling on his neck. “Of  _ course _ you do.”

“I like him so much, Changkyun,” Jooheon wails, dropping his forehead to the shoulder of Changkyun’s button-down shirt, rubbing his whole face onto it. 

“You’re gonna get BB cream on my nice shirt,” Changkyun says, petting Jooheon gingerly. “You look so pretty today, Jooheonnie.”

“I know,” Jooheon whines, “Minhyuk told me. He said ‘Jooheon, you’re so pretty I could die.’ He said that to me, Kyunnie. He hates me. He’s torturing me. I’m in hell.”

“Don’t be melodramatic,” Changkyun coos. “At least you didn’t fuck the boss.”

Jooheon pulls back, lips quivering before he nearly shouts his laughter. “I  _ wish _ I could fuck my boss.”

“You can,” Changkyun says, petting Jooheon’s soft skin like he can’t stop. It really is so soft. Like a baby. Like a soft, sweet-smelling baby. There’s a home video of Changkyun’s brother pressing his little tan nose and lips to baby Changkyun’s head and sniffing, crying out  _ ohhhh you smell so good, Kyunnie _ \--

Changkyun shakes his head, clenching his hands into fists. “When’s the afterparty?”

“I--”

There’s a tapping on a microphone, and then Minhyuk is speaking from atop one of the wood tables. Jeonghan is leaning against him, arm hooked around his waist, the two of them clearly a little tipsy. “I wanna take a moment,” Minhyuk declares, breath muffled, echoing in the microphone, “to thank everyone. 2017 was such a great year. Really,” he says, “really great. We should all be very proud. I’m very proud. We experienced exponential, truly exponential growth in 2017. We got our first award, you know, in CNBC Disruptor 50 list, and we--” his eyes latch onto where Jooheon is nuzzling needily into Changkyun’s neck, “ah, I forgot what I was gonna say. Some good stuff. Anyhow, we have some appetizers in the corner of the room. Little pretzels, you know. And that beer cheese! That’s true luxury. And...and, of course, the after party will be at Titanium in K-town.”

“Holy shit,” Changkyun wheezes. “Can we even get in there?”

Jooheon nods against Changkyun’s shoulder. “Minhyuk knows the owner.”

“Holy shit.”

Hyungwon, Jooheon, and Changkyun sit with a few other interns at a long wooden table, snacking on soft pretzels and little mini burgers. Changkyun gets another whiskey ginger. 

His mouth tastes insatiable. 

This is how he always gets when he drinks. His mom used to have to paint his nails to keep him from sucking on his fingers as a child. 

Oral fixation, you know. 

He can see Hoseok watching him sometimes.

And, beside him, Kihyun too, as they chat by the food table. 

Changkyun focuses on Jooheon and the other interns. He learns that Hansol and Joshua go to his college, too. They’re marketing majors, though, so he’s never seen them around. They room together in Queens. Jihoon lives in Queens too, with Soonyoung. 

“No offense,” Changkyun slurs, palms on the table, “but wha’s so good about this company anyhow? What do we even  _ do _ ?”

Hansol and Joshua turn to Hyungwon. “He okay?” Hansol asks.

Hyungwon shrugs. “He’s a weird kid, I dunno.”

Changkyun grabs Jooheon’s arm. “We don’t need them, HoneyBee. We’re too good for this. For this...this disrespect. We don’t need it. I don’t need anyone but you. And my  _ new friends _ \--” Changkyun declares, spreading his arms wide, nearly losing his balance on the bench as he tries to gesture across the table at all the other interns. “Interns unite, eh? We make  _ shit _ money and we do everything and they think just because they’re  _ hot _ or whatever that we’ll--”

“Changkyun,” Jooheon hisses, slapping his palm over Changkyun’s lips. “He’s teasing,” Jooheon tells the others.

Hansol and Joshua nod slowly. “You’re a weird dude, Changkyun,” Hansol says.

“But we dig it,” Joshua adds.

 

The club isn’t actually that far from their office. K-town is thrumming with noise now, a little after 10pm. There’s a huge line of decked out chicks and nicely-suited dudes outside one of the clubs. Minhyuk leads them over to two of the bouncers, these huge guys who shake his hand eagerly and laugh with him as they usher their entire group inside. 

The music is so loud, and Changkyun barely remembers getting there. Doesn’t remember the walk at all. He remembers grasping for Jooheon’s hand, Hyungwon’s hand too. They all walk up the two flights of stairs to the club, and the doors open to a huge hall of pulsing noise and grinding bodies. Changkyun doesn’t know how all of this fit inside this building. It’s like Hermione’s magic bag.

There’s a DJ perched at the front of the room on a raised platform, and beneath him, the room spins with bright lights and smoke machines and gorgeous people. 

“Holy shit,” Changkyun gasps. “Is Minhyuk in the mob or something?”

“I’d still fuck him,” Jooheon cries pitifully. “Oh, God, Changkyun. I’d still fuck him if he were in the mob.”

Changkyun pats Jooheon’s cheek and pulls the line of interns after him in a little train. 

Hoseok tries to pull him away first. Changkyun holds onto Jooheon and Hyungwon desperately. 

“Changkyun, please talk to me,” Hoseok begs.

Hyungwon steps between him and Changkyun. “Hey, boss man, I’m a huge fan of your work,” he says, offering Hoseok his hand. Hoseok looks at Hyungwon, gives a weak smile and shakes his hand. 

“Thanks. Chae Hyungwon, right? Er, Hyungwon Chae here, sorry.”

Hyungwon shrugs. “Doesn’t matter, man. You have time to talk code? I got an idea for the Predict App.”

Hoseok uneasily looks at Changkyun and then flicks his gaze back to Hyungwon. Hyungwon is steady and handsome and intimidating when he wants to be. “Yeah, okay. Sure. Later, Changkyun? Please?”

Changkyun clenches his jaw. Nods.

Hoseok nods back and walks with Hyungwon over to the bar to perch on stools and talk.

Changkyun wonders if his old dealer in Bay Ridge will be able to hook him up with something special for Hyungwon. As thanks.

The lights whir in front of Changkyun’s eyes, mixing with the smoke and creating a weird kind of pastel film over his vision. Though that might just be the liquor.

“Catch me talking to him  _ never _ ,” Changkyun laughs. 

Jooheon laughs, but it doesn’t seem like he has any idea why. “Hey, Kyunnie. Let’s dance.”

Changkyun looks around, searching, searching.

Kihyun, Minhyuk, Seungcheol, and Jeonghan are standing against the railing on the balcony above the dance floor. They seem to be watching, but maybe that’s just Changkyun wishing. 

“Yeah,” Changkyun breathes. “Yeah, let’s dance.”

They coerce all the interns onto the dance floor. Even Jihoon and Mingyu and Wonwoo. They push through the crowd and form a little circle. Someone pushes Jihoon into the middle, and he does a precious little hip roll. Everyone screams. 

“YOU’RE SO CUTE, JIHOONIE!” Changkyun screeches. 

Mingyu and Wonwoo shove Changkyun and Jooheon into the circle. 

The bass is pretty much all Changkyun can make out of the music. It’s thick and heavy and just slow enough for Changkyun to rock his hips to. 

“Hey, Kyunnie,” Jooheon calls over the music, pulling Changkyun’s back against his chest. “Remember that one dance you used to do when we’d go out?”

“The  _ Jersey Turnpike _ ,” Changkyun screams, folding his body in half, palms on the floor in front of him as he grinds his ass back against Jooheon. The rest of the interns shriek around them. 

Changkyun stands back up after a few beats, spins around, works his hips against Jooheon’s, with arms draped around his neck. 

“You said ‘when we used to go out’ as if we ever went more than three times together,” Changkyun says, lips against Jooheon’s ear. 

“Sorry I’m boring,” Jooheon says back, hands on Changkyun’s ass, squeezing them closer together. 

“You know we’re being watched,” Changkyun says.

Jooheon nods, pressing their hips closer together, and everything is sweaty. A mess of bodies forms around them, the rest of the interns forming a grinding blob among the other bodies. 

From the balcony, Changkyun swears he hears Minhyuk shouting, “MY GOD,  _ THE INTERNS _ !”

Changkyun doesn’t know who is pressed against his back, just knows that it feels good. It’s hot, and everything is dripping with sweat and condensation, and Changkyun’s body feels so  _ good _ . Knowing Kihyun is watching him makes him feel bad but also amazing. He wants Kihyun to know how desirable he is. How free he is. How fuckable he is. He doesn’t need this...this training. Changkyun could fuck anyone he wants. Changkyun could get someone who would give him what he  _ wants _ .

Against the wall, at the bar, Hoseok is watching too. Hyungwon is chatting him up, clearly entranced by Hoseok, and Hoseok is watching Changkyun like he’s some kind of mystery. Changkyun has never tried to be a mystery. Has always said clearly what he wants. When he wants it. Changkyun doesn’t like games. 

He doesn’t like having to  _ work _ for  _ anything _ . 

He shouldn’t have to, anyhow. 

A song he recognizes, “Boom” by Tiesto, starts blaring through the speakers, the bass tickling the soles of his shoes. 

Changkyun loses himself in it, working himself up, pressing back against whatever body aligns itself behind him, rocking forward against whatever body’s in front of him too. There are bare hands under the hem of his button-down. 

Changkyun feels his mouth filling up again. The urges building up like plaque in his core. He needs that release. 

He thinks about grabbing Mingyu. Maybe pulling him away. 

Maybe Wonwoo. 

Maybe that guy who’s been watching him from the next group of bodies over on the dance floor, with his sweat-slicked black hair and unbuttoned oxford shirt.

But then he thinks about the scent of leather and cucumber melon. About hands pinning his wrists above his head, and a warm, gentle voice burning against his skin, telling him he’s good, telling him he’s good and safe and to  _ let go _ .

Changkyun breaks off from the group. Doesn’t think anyone really notices him leaving as he weaves back through the crowd. 

He’s intercepted.

“Changkyun, you’re gonna have to talk to me eventually. You can’t do this every time.”

“I can,” Changkyun protests, “and I fucking will. Who the -- who the fuck do you think you are, huh? You’re not my boyfriend. Not my family. Not my friend. You’re not anyone. I sat on your dick a few times, so what? Leave me  _ alone _ .”

“Changkyun,” Hoseok says, sounding shattered. “Please.”

Changkyun shoves at his chest. “I said  _ fuck off _ ,” he grits out. “I wasn’t enough for you, and I never will be, and I don’t need anyone. I don’t  _ want _ anyone.”

“Talk to me about him if you need to, Changkyun,” Hoseok says, gripping Changkyun’s elbows, holding him steady, in that emphatic, emotional way he always did when he watched Changkyun fall apart for him. “It’s okay. It can be okay.”

“No it  _ can’t _ ,” Changkyun croaks, wrenching himself away, but Hoseok pulls him back, tight to his chest, trying to soothe him somehow, but Changkyun is shaking.

“What’s going on?” 

Changkyun’s blood pops in his veins like it’s carbonated. He spins around from Hoseok, pulls himself away. “Kihyun, I --” He tries to find a lie, but he’s never needed them before. “Hoseok was my...Hoseok and I used to…”

“Changkyun and I dated,” Hoseok finishes for him. “A couple years back. He studied abroad, and was in the undergrad program while I was in grad school.”

Kihyun’s eyes widen, and his lips part in a surprised little ‘o’. “I. See.”

Changkyun knows it’s over then. Can see the way Kihyun’s posture changes. The way his fists clench at his sides, before he wipes his palms against the material of his pants. It’s over. No one will ever take Changkyun apart the way Kihyun did, and it’s over now.

“I need to go,” Changkyun wheezes out, shuddering as he fights his way to the restroom. 

The handicapped stall is the only one open, and Changkyun feels guilty as he shuts the lock behind him, pressing his back against the door. If someone comes in and needs it, Changkyun swears he’ll let them have it. He just needs space. He needs to calm down. He needs --

“Changkyun.” There’s a knock on the stall door. Changkyun looks under it and sees Kihyun’s shiny black brogues. 

“Go away,” Changkyun splutters pathetically. 

“Don’t give me that,” Kihyun says. “You’re better than this, Changkyun.”

“Don’t tell me what I am,” Changkyun spits. 

“Please open the door,” Kihyun says, sounding patient, sounding kind. Then, seconds later, “Baby, open the door for me, okay?” in that voice he uses when Changkyun is wound tight with desperation, needing the calm of release. 

Kihyun gets Changkyun against the wall of the stall the moment he’s allowed inside. He takes Changkyun’s face in his hands and holds him, their foreheads pressed together, breath mixing together. Kihyun’s breath tastes like gin, and Changkyun realizes Kihyun is a little drunk. 

“You said you don’t drink,” Changkyun gasps, as Kihyun slides his thigh between Changkyun’s legs, presses it up high, forcing Changkyun onto his tiptoes to lessen the pressure. 

“I was driven to drink,” Kihyun admits. “Some little slutty intern was riling me up on purpose.”

“Can’t imagine who that was,” Changkyun mutters, rolling his hips and lowering himself down over Kihyun’s thigh, riding it. “Kihyun, but I --”

“Who am I?” 

Changkyun’s head falls back against the wall of the stall. “Daddy,” he breathes, trying to keep quiet. 

Kihyun’s mouth closes over his throat, sucking hard, and Changkyun mewls. 

“ _ Daddy _ ,” Changkyun whines, louder.

Kihyun licks into Changkyun’s mouth, and Changkyun goes loose, pliant. He peels Changkyun’s trousers down, his boxers, spreads his cheeks and teases his fingers over Changkyun’s hole. 

“I thought you would be done with me,” Changkyun whimpers, as Kihyun peels open a packet of lube with his teeth. It’s oddly one of the sexiest things Changkyun’s ever seen. Maybe this is why Kihyun doesn’t drink, Changkyun thinks, as he watches Kihyun’s normally composed face shift constantly with some new wild emotion as he looks Changkyun up and down. His hair is disheveled, messy and hanging limply over his eyes, and Changkyun is desperate for him, so easy for him.

Kihyun wraps Changkyun’s abandoned blazer around his wrists and hooks it over the coat hook on the wall of the stall. He hikes Changkyun up against it, and Changkyun wraps his legs around Kihyun’s waist, so Kihyun can press his fingers deep inside him, angled just so. 

“That’s my good boy,” Kihyun gasps against Changkyun’s throat. “My...my precious boy. I’m not going anywhere.”

Changkyun luxuriates in Kihyun’s words, even knowing they’re tinged with liquor. The neediness of Kihyun’s fingers pushing against his walls, flicking over his prostate, of Kihyun’s lips as they work over Changkyun’s until he can barely draw breath, until the skin is swollen in the best way.

“Take me,” Changkyun pleads, nipping against Kihyun’s ear, his wrists aching as he’s held in the air with the silky fabric of his blazer. “Please, Daddy. I need it. I need you. Please take me.”

Kihyun’s moan against Changkyun’s mouth is thick with want. “You’re such a pretty, sweet little slut, aren’t you?”

Changkyun bites at Kihyun’s lower lip, drags it through his teeth. “Yes, yes, God,  _ fuck _ , yes.  _ Now _ , Daddy,  _ please _ .”

Kihyun holds one hand over Changkyun’s mouth, the other pressing against his hipbone, with Changkyun’s legs still wrapped around him. He fucks into him quick, bottoming out before Changkyun can even react. Changkyun is still much too tight, but Kihyun has coated his condom-wrapped cock with surplus lube, so the friction isn’t too bad.

He’s so deliciously full. Kihyun keeps his hand over Changkyun’s face as he thrusts up into him. “That’s it, baby,” Kihyun breathes, and Changkyun’s arms are going numb from being held over his head, held over the coat hook in the stall, but nothing matters because Kihyun is fucking him so deep and slow, mouthing at Changkyun’s throat like he wants to devour him whole.

Kihyun’s hand slides down away from Changkyun’s mouth to his throat, wraps around it. “Hold your breath for me, baby boy.”

Changkyun nods, takes in a deep breath. 

He doesn’t even need Kihyun to hold his throat closed. He’ll hold his breath for him. He likes to feel the way his vision goes fuzzy and soft through a filter, the way his ribs turn to swimming flippers beating against the inside of his chest as if they’re kicking through a current, the way his blood all swells in his cock, making the pleasure somehow even more unreasonable. 

“You take my cock so well, Changkyun,” Kihyun gasps. “Like you were made to take it. Just a gorgeous little slut. But you’re too bratty for that compliment. Much too bratty.”

Changkyun whines, rocking his hips down to meet Kihyun’s thrusts, shaking his head. He holds his breath like he was told, but he wants to protest. He’s good. For Kihyun, he’s good. He’s never wanted to be good before.

“Okay, baby, breathe,” Kihyun whispers, “And touch yourself for me.”

Changkyun draws in a much-needed breath, head spinning, and reaches between his legs to tug at his cock, fast and needy. Kihyun holds his hips and fucks into him hard and shallow now, thrusts erratic and harsh. 

“Daddy, I need--can I--?”

“Not yet, baby,” Kihyun groans, hips slapping hard against Changkyun’s ass as he pumps up into him. 

Changkyun stills his hand on his cock. 

“No, keep touching yourself. I didn’t say stop.”

“But I’m gonna--”

“No you aren’t,” Kihyun murmurs. “Because I didn’t say you could.”

“It hurts,” Changkyun sobs, back thumping against the wall of the stall as he glides his fingers over his cock, the stimulation stinging in his veins as he fights the urge to cum. 

“You gonna cry for me, baby?”

Changkyun’s chin quivers, and he tips his head up to the ceiling tiles as his eyes brim with tears. “It  _ hurts _ .”

“Good boy. Let it out. Let it all out for me,” Kihyun says, softly, calmly. “You’ve got so much built up inside you. You’ll never be good for me if you can’t let it go.”

“I  _ am  _ good, I’m--it  _ hurts _ , and I--”

“Shh,” Kihyun says, pressing hard on Changkyun’s hip bones bruisingly. “Go ahead and cry, baby. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

The gentleness of Kihyun’s soft voice claws at Changkyun’s resolve. He shudders, sobs silently quaking out of him like he’s never cried before. He’s snotty and there are tears running everywhere. 

“It hurts, it hurts so much,” Changkyun says, and he’s only mostly talking about his need to cum. 

Kihyun just keeps shushing him sweetly, foreheads pressed together, kissing at his tears every couple seconds. “That’s it, sweet boy. That’s it. Let it out for me.”

Changkyun tugs at his wrists, arches his back. “Please,  _ fuck _ , please,  _ ah _ , please!” He doesn’t even know if he’s forming words at this point. Just sounds, sniveling little sounds. 

“Okay, okay. That’s it. Cum for me, my beautiful, sweet boy,” Kihyun says, circling his hips so the head of his cock brushes Changkyun’s prostate just so.

Changkyun tightens up all at once, fisting over the shaft of his cock once, twice, before Kihyun is pressing three fingers between his lips to muffle Changkyun’s shout as he cums, dripping hot over his own hand. 

Kihyun lifts Changkyun a bit to get the loop around his wrists off the coat hook, and then he lowers him down onto the closed lid of the toilet seat. Changkyun is shaking, and Kihyun is holding him, kissing at his wet cheeks. 

“But you...did you...did you cum?”

Kihyun shakes his head, tucking himself back into his trousers and zipping them up. “Let me take you home.”

“To Long Island?”

Kihyun nods. 

“To your house?”

Kihyun nods again.

“But it’s nearly midnight,” Changkyun croaks, chest still heaving and shuddering with sobs.

Kihyun wipes at his tears as they come, thumbs sweeping over the apples of Changkyun’s cheeks. “Mhm.”

“I can stay?”

“Yes, baby, you can stay,” Kihyun says, helping Changkyun back into his boxers and dress pants, unknotting his blazer to slip it back on. “I wanna lay you out under all those lights and look at you.”

Changkyun shivers. Takes Kihyun’s hand.

The stall door opens. 

And Jooheon’s butt is pressed against the sink by the wall of mirrors and sinks, Minhyuk’s hands on either side of him on the porcelain, leaning in close as they talk. They both jerk apart as Changkyun and Kihyun step out and stare at them.

Minhyuk turns a bit, takes note of their appearances. Huffs out a laugh. Sing-songs: “Kihyun Yoo, you got some ‘splainin’ to do.”

Kihyun squeezes Changkyun’s hand. “Monday, Minhyuk. Monday, and I’ll explain. Let me take him home.”

Minhyuk smirks at Changkyun a little and then waves them off. “Go, go, whatever. I like him much more than your last one.”

Changkyun feels like he’d be offended if he could feel anything but relaxed and aroused. 

“You okay?” he asks Jooheon.

Jooheon presses his lips together, face flushed, and he nods. 

“Text me when you get home, okay?”

“Yeah, okay. Yeah,” Jooheon says, still somewhat bracketed by Minhyuk’s arms on the sink. “You too.”

Kihyun leads Changkyun out of the club, the feel of their hands clasped together firm and safe, even as they emerge out onto Korea Way, still loud and pulsing with life.

“Take me home,” Changkyun gasps, pressing up against Kihyun’s side, rocking his hips against him. 

Kihyun laughs, breathless, as he waits for their Uber to pull up. “I am, baby, I am.”

“Take me home _ now _ ,” Changkyun whines, teeth dragging over the lobe of Kihyun’s ear. 

“Filthy little thing, aren’t you?” 

“I want you to fuck me against your Smeg refrigerator.”

“Truly the filthiest little boy,” Kihyun groans, shoving Changkyun down into the leather backseat of the Uber. 

“All the way to Port Washington, huh?” their driver calls from the front. “Shit you must have some money.”

Changkyun can barely keep his hands to himself during the ride. He presses his knees together and whines, paws at Kihyun, sucks at the bare skin just below the collar of his shirt. Kihyun tries to hold him still, calm him, but Changkyun is restless.

“Please fuck me again, promise you will,” Changkyun says, nosing against Kihyun’s shoulder. “Promise you’ll make it rough and hard and you’ll do it over and over. I want it to hurt. Slap me hard. I can take it. I wanna take it.”

“You’re not going to let me sleep, are you?”

Changkyun licks at his dry lips. “Who needs sleep when you’ve got an ass like mine?” He grabs for Kihyun’s wrist, directs his hand over the swell of his ass in his pants. 

“You’re truly lucky you’re adorable.”

“I know.”

“Hello back there,” their Uber driver calls, “Y’all can stop fondling each other. We’re here.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: so this fic is almost over, and I have one more chapter of Changki content planned (and then a bonus Joohyuk chapter). I'm not sure why any of you are still reading this, but here is some more filth for you heathens.

“Do you like cilantro?” Kihyun calls, from his kitchen.

Changkyun, in a small, whimpery voice, cries: “TASTES LIKE DIRTY SOAP.”

Kihyun smiles to himself and tosses the cilantro into the trash. He’s recently invested in one of those meal box services that sends you a week’s worth of dinner ingredients and recipes. Minhyuk teased him for having one when he lives alone, but Kihyun likes that he doesn’t have to go to the grocery store to fight middle-aged men for protein powder like every other damn person in NY, and now he doesn’t have to portion anything when he gets home from an eleven-hour shift at SevenX.

The tofu is grilling on his red Le Creuset grill pan, and he splashes it with a little lime.

In the other room, the channels are constantly changing on his television, and over the fuzzy sound of each one coming and going, Kihyun hears Changkyun sniffling and whining.

Over the sound of another rerun of  _ Dirty Dancing _ , Kihyun calls out: “Sour cream?”

Changkyun just screeches, like a pterodactyl who watched another pterodactyl steal an egg from its nest.

Kihyun lays the cilantro-less rice onto the tortillas and forks the grilled tofu down over top, along with some pico de gallo and sour cream. The movie gradually grows in volume until Kihyun is wincing on his way to deliver the tacos.

“Baby,” Kihyun chides.  “You’re being a little melodramatic, don’t you think?”

Changkyun, spread out on Kihyun’s tan leather couch, panting, gripping the corded cushions, has his eyes squinched shut tight, his lips pursed in a grimace. “I hope you fall in a volcano.”

“I won’t be able to unlock it if I fall in a volcano. Now sit up and eat,” Kihyun instructs, pulling out two identical light wood tray tables and unfolding them in front of the couch. He places the plates of tacos on the tables and shoves Changkyun over, so he can take a seat. “I love this movie. I love how dated and greasy it is.”

“Reminds me of someone,” Changkyun grits out, shifting his legs with a wince under the tray table.

Kihyun lays a hand on Changkyun’s bare thigh and slides it inwards, towards the cage locked tight around Changkyun’s cock. “What, you can’t stay soft for a measly two hours for a movie and some food?”

“You’re the one who got me  _ hard in the first place _ ,” Changkyun whines miserably. “You sadistic fuck.”

“If you were really mad at me, you wouldn’t be struggling to stay soft,” Kihyun reminds him, picking up a taco and holding it carefully in front of Changkyun’s mouth. “Big bite now, baby boy.”

Chankgyun blows hot bitter air at Kihyun’s face in reply, ruffling his bangs, but he opens his mouth obediently seconds later to take a large bite of taco. He chews silently, cheeks flushed, bangs sticky with sweat to his forehead.

“Why do you hate me,” Changkyun asks, chewing with squinted angry eyes.

“Oh, I don’t, baby, I don’t,” Kihyun replies, letting Changkyun finish his tacos so he can eat his own. “I’m teaching you a lesson. In patience. Sometimes Daddy needs some quiet time.”

“You mean you  _ don’t _ want me coming into your office all the time to let you fuck my face?”

“I mean, that’s what  _ bad _ boys do, Changkyun,” Kihyun says, flicking Changkyun’s nose like a chastised dog. “Good boys wait for their Daddies to tell them when they can come get what they want.”

“It’s for  _ you _ , you overworked porcelain  _ warthog _ !”

“Now, now, Changkyun,” Kihyun says, fighting off the urge to spit tofu in Changkyun’s face with the building laugh swelling in his chest. “That’s not nice.”

“You—you! You neurotic, anxious, pretty rich boy who wears sweater vests from the grandpa’s section of  _ Kohl’s _ ! Why do I even try to suck your stupid mean fat dick? You don’t deserve my mouth, huh? How’s about that? Hm?”

Kihyun shifts his tray table back and shoves Changkyun down to the cushions of the couch. His hair falls away from his face, stunning and sweet and soft and open. His dark eyes are wide and honest and  _ angry _ and blown out with lust, and fuck, Kihyun really doesn’t deserve him, does he.

He drags his palms down over Changkyun’s pretty tan chest, circling his little dusty brown nipples, and Changkyun’s breath shudders out from between his soft precious lips that always taste like chapstick and cool winter air.

“My gorgeous, selfless boy,” Kihyun coos, grabbing Changkyun under the knees and dragging him closer, so his soft, slightly dimpled thighs are hooked over Kihyun’s hips. “I love how soft and pliant you are, baby,” he says, gripping the little swell of fat at Changkyun’s hips, digging his nails in to hear Changkyun hiss and watch him arch up sweetly. Needily. “You like it how I torture you, though. You picked me for this, didn’t you? You want someone who can handle you when you’re at your most bratty. You want someone who will tear you to thin paper shreds and then dip you in glue and papier-mâché you back together.”

“What a gross old man metaphor,” Changkyun groans, shaking his head against the leather with a quiet crinkling noise.

Kihyun grabs Changkyun by the ankle, bending his knee towards his chest, and kisses his heel. “You little brat. Just be honest with me for once instead of fighting.”

“You like that I fight you, you sick freak,” Changkyun spits.

Kihyun kisses down Changkyun’s leg from his heel, over the sharp bend of his knee and down the warm smooth skin of his thighs. Kihyun had never been with anyone with thighs like Changkyun before. His most recent ex had been thin, like a ball-jointed doll. Very fragile looking. Changkyun is sturdier, still very small, but thick in places Kihyun can’t get enough of.

He nips at the skin of Changkyun’s inner thigh, and Changkyun gasps, digging his fingers into the plush leather of the bottom couch cushions.

“It  _ hurts _ ,” Changkyun whines. “ _ Daddy _ , it  _ hurts _ .”

“Shhh, I know, baby, and you’re doing so well. So, so well. I can’t believe how well you’re doing,” Kihyun replies, eyeing the deep angry redness of Changkyun’s cock in the little cage. “I’m gonna take care of you, I promise.”

“Please.”

Kihyun bypasses Changkyun’s cock and licks and kisses at the little swell of Changkyun’s stomach and up to flick his tongue over his nipples. “I can’t get enough of you, Changkyun. Fuck, you’re so gorgeous. So fucking gorgeous.”

“ _ Please _ —”

“I’m gonna take care of you, slowly,” Kihyun says, hoisting Changkyun’s legs up to his chest and spreading his cheeks wide. “You have to know that if you want me to have you, you need to give yourself over first.”

“I  _ know that already _ .”

“No, you don’t. You needy, impatient little brat,” Kihyun retorts lightly slapping Changkyun’s cheek and grabbing the lube from his back sweatpants pocket. He dribbles an excess of it over Changkyun’s hole just to watch it sinking into him messily. Changkyun makes him like the mess. “I have to keep breaking you first.”

“I’ve learned my lesson, I promise!” Changkyun cries, as Kihyun hooks his thumb into Changkyun’s body, searching out his prostate. Changkyun screams. His cock is nearly purple at the head through the clear plastic cage. “Please, please, oh God, I’m gonna  _ die _ , this is really how I  _ die _ , Daddy!”

Kihyun shakes his head and strokes his thumb gently, oh so gently, over Changkyun’s prostate again and again until Changkyun is babbling and crying and screaming. In the background, Kihyun can hear that Baby and Johnny are about to fuck in  _ Dirty Dancing.  _ This scene always makes Kihyun horny.

God, he really is a grease weasel, isn’t he?

Changkyun is shaking his head back and forth against the couch cushion, his whole body tense in Kihyun’s hold as he keeps him bent in half, just gently fucking into him with only his thumb.

“Da…ddy…” Changkyun whines, lifting his head with eyes red-rimmed and exhausted and honest, so honest. “Please? I’ll be so good for you. I’ll be so good. ‘m so good. I just. I can. I can  _ ahhhh _ be so good.”

“I know, baby. I know you can.”

“Please.”

Kihyun is used to being manipulated by big sweet brown eyes and pouty lips. He’s been through all this before. He should be able to say no better than this. But there is something dangerous about Im Changkyun. Something that makes Kihyun want to give him everything. Kihyun wants to spoil him rotten. He’ll buy Changkyun the entire line of Smeg products. He’ll buy Changkyun a studio apartment in the East Village. He’ll buy the finest bottle of champagne in New York even if Changkyun just wants him to shake it up and spray it at him like some girl from a rap music video.

Kihyun should be better at telling Changkyun no, but he isn’t.

Which terrifies him.

The cage comes off with a simple little metal key, the lock falling open, and Kihyun slowly pulls the plastic away from Changkyun’s skin. He’s so furiously red and sensitive, and Kihyun can’t help but grip him tight, so Changkyun screams for him again.

That deep, honeyed voice pitched high and needy for him. Only for him.

Kihyun loves that the most.

With his finger still hooked in Changkyun’s hole, Kihyun bends down and sucks Changkyun into his mouth, still soft from the cage. His whole cock fits in like this, flaccid on Kihyun’s tongue.

He screams again, jerking in Kihyun’s hold. Kihyun presses right into Changkyun’s prostate, tucks his lips in over his teeth, hollows his cheeks, and  _ sucks _ .

Changkyun makes some horrifying crying sounds, like he’s dying, but he’s hardening in Kihyun’s mouth, desperate to cum. If Kihyun weren’t already turned on, Changkyun’s noises would terrify him, and he’d worry about the neighbors, but as it stands, Kihyun just wants more.

“Oh  _ yes _ ,” Changkyun gurgles, trying to buck his hips up and failing, just making sweaty creaking noises against the leather as he bounces in some weird mimicry of an ab exercise. “Daddy  _ yes _ , like  _ that _ , I—”

Kihyun slips his thumb out and teases it around the slick rim, and Changkyun shrieks, “No! No, no, no! Daddy, please, no!”

Kihyun smirks and flicks his tongue up the underside of Changkyun’s balls and up the shaft. “Tell me how you like it when Daddy is cruel.”

“No! No, just, put it  _ in! _ ”

Kihyun spanks the bared skin of Changkyun’s ass lifted up towards him, and Changkyun screeches.

“Tell me.”

“I like it!”

“Like what, baby boy?” Kihyun asks, tapping the tip of his thumb over Changkyun’s entrance, almost hard enough to press inside but not quite.

“I fucking love it when you torture me. I, fucking, I fucking love it when you’re a big mean jerk who looks like he wears his grandfather’s old clothes. I  _ love _ it. Mmmmjust, please! I’ve been thinking about having your cock in me all day, since you fucking-- since you woke me up with it hard between my thighs. Oh, Daddy, please, fuck me,  _ fuck me _ .”

Changkyun’s chest is flushed pink, his nipples budded and hard, his sweet tan belly coated in sweat. And Kihyun has such trouble saying no.

He grabs Changkyun’s hands, directs them to his own thighs, tells him to hold himself open. Changkyun obeys, gripping his own legs tightly and baring his slick, tight hole for Kihyun as he works his sweats off and rolls a condom down over his cock. Changkyun is panting loudly, eyes trained on Kihyun’s cock like it’s a desert mirage, like he’s been thirsting for it so much it physically pains him to be away from it for too long.

Kihyun has never felt more needed. More desired.

He grips Changkyun’s plush hips and fucks into him hard, bottoming out on the first thrust. Changkyun doesn’t scream this time. Just breathes out contentedly, like he’s finally comfortable.

Kihyun ruts into him sharply, deeply, with one palm pressed down over Changkyun’s cock, giving almost too much pressure. Changkyun looks euphoric.

“So full,” he moans, with a blissed out smile on his pretty lips. “You fuck me so good, Daddy. You fuck me so fuckin’ good.”

Kihyun can feel it when Changkyun is close, when he starts rolling his hips up and squeaking with each sharp inhale. “You want to come for me, sweet baby?”

Changkyun digs his nails deep into his plush tan thighs and pulls his knees up tighter to his chest, so Kihyun’s cock can drive deeper into him, Kihyun’s hips snapping hard against the backs of Changkyun’s thighs as he thrusts. “Yes, Daddy, yes, yes,  _ please _ .”

“Good boy. Good, beautiful boy, go ahead,” Kihyun murmurs gently, pinching Changkyun’s cock and stroking it lightly as he thrusts, and Changkyun shatters for him. 

Kihyun could never get tired of watching Changkyun orgasm. The way he goes so taut, so clenched and red-faced and desperate and then just sags, boneless and soulless and pink and sweaty and  _ rapturous _ . 

Kihyun pulls out, making Changkyun hiss between his teeth, and Kihyun just strokes himself hard as he’s poised over Changkyun’s almost-silly post-orgasm face. “Open those pretty eyes for me, baby,” Kihyun groans, his gut tightening up with his impending release. 

Changkyun’s eyelids flutter open, and he smiles, like he’s so glad Kihyun is there, and Kihyun comes. Just like that. Right onto Changkyun Im’s irresistibly adorable smiling face. 

Changkyun blinks when Kihyun’s come lands on his eyelashes, but he licks at his lips to taste it, humming pleasantly. “Thanks, Daddy,” he says quietly, blinking like a little freak with jizz in his lashes. “Mmm...But can we rewind the movie? I want to see the crawling around in the dance studio scene.”

Kihyun laughs and collapses forward over Changkyun to press a loud smooch to his sweaty forehead and fumble for the remote under his head. “Okay, baby. Let’s start from the beginning.” 

 

“You said  _ Monday _ , and it is now the following  _ following _ Saturday, and you  _ still _ haven’t told me what is going on,” Minhyuk cries, following Kihyun around the food court with his tray jabbing into Kihyun’s back. 

“Watch the soup, ya ass,” Kihyun hisses, finding no open tables, but one open bench on the second floor of the place. “If it spills on our kimbap, I’m gonna murder you.”

“I’m the one with the right to commit murder right now, Kihyun Yoo,” Minhyuk says, dropping down onto the wooden bench beside KIhyun and slipping his wooden chopsticks from the paper. “You’re not only breaking company policy regardi--”

“Am not,” Kihyun protests. “He’s an intern. Rule only applies to full-time employees. Look it up.”

“I  _ wrote  _ it,” Minhyuk says. “I know what it says, Ki. You’re still his superior,  _ and _ he’s still in  _ school _ for God’s sake.”

“Like you can talk,” Kihyun scoffs, plucking a bibimbap kimbap from the tray between them on the bench. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Minhyuk mumbles around a mouthful of rice. 

“It means that the entire office knows you’re lusting after the youthful cheeks of your own intern,” Kihyun retorts, kicking at Minhyuk’s heel when he grabs for the other overstuffed end piece of kimbap. 

“I’m offended. I have only the purest of intentions for Jooheon Lee,” Minhyuk replies, the hand holding his chopsticks flying to press over his heart in sincerity. 

“I saw you two in the bathroom. You were caging him in against the sinks like a regular old pervert.”

Minhyuk flicks his hair back from his face with a little twitch of his head. “Well I haven’t  _ acted _ on anything, which is why we are talking about  _ you _ now, Kihyun. So tell me. I’m technically your superior.”

Kihyun snorts. “You only play this card when you want gossip, you stupid honking goose.”

“Oh, come off it, Ki. Just tell me: is he under Contract?” 

Kihyun’s eyes narrow, and he grips his knees through his jeans. “Fucking--no! No, I told you: I’m never doing that again.” 

“Okay,” Minhyuk says, sighing with obvious relief, collapsing back against the wood planks of the bench behind them. “Jesus, Ki. I was scared. You can’t just fill all these holes with pretty young boys.”

“Rephrase, please.”

“Sorry. You can’t just fill that aching black hole of a void in your soul with the affections of pretty boys,” Minhyuk says, laughing a little. 

“I’m not. I swear to god. He approached me first. I told him no, but he was  _ relentless _ , Minhyuk.”

“Changkyun Im? Really? He seems so...quiet and weird?”

“He’s the loudest, brattiest fucking...God, Minhyuk, I honestly cannot believe what I got myself into. But I haven’t felt this good in such a long time,” Kihyun admits, rubbing at the stubble along his jaw with his palms. “I’m having fun?”

Minhyuk wrinkles his nose. “Ew.”

Kihyun kicks at Minhyuk’s shin again. “Shut up. You wanted me to be honest with you. The honest truth is I have no idea what I’m doing or we’re doing or even who he is. He asked me to be his... _ sugardaddy _ ...but he never really asks me for anything?”

“Wait, what.”

“What? Which part?”

“The fructose father part. Jesus, Kihyun, is he  _ using you for money _ ?”

“That’s what he said he wanted. I mean, he’s really only asked for groceries and a few other minor things. I really just feed him a lot. He didn’t know Poké was a food and not just the beginning of the word Pokemon. I just, I have no idea what his motivation is,” Kihyun says, tipping his face up to the ceiling and pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“What a weird fuckin’ kid,” Minhyuk says, loudly chewing as he speaks. “If I convinced someone to be my sugar daddy, I’d be mooching all the time. He’s not mooching?”

Kihyun shakes his head where it hangs over his shoulders. “Not at all. He just wants to fuck all the time.”

“Again, ew. There truly must be something wrong with him. He wants to fuck you all the time, and he isn’t asking for money in exchange? Should our company be paying for some kind of therapy?”

Kihyun huffs. “I should’ve just kept saying no until he got bored.”

“What was going on at the Off-Site after party then? Why was he crying? And don’t tell me it was because he got the dick so good. I’ve had enough of that out of you today to last a lifetime.”

“I dunno, honestly. Apparently he and Hoseok used to date, and when they ran into each other, Changkyun just started freaking out,” Kihyun says, the words like a groan in the back of his throat. 

“Holy shit. Wait. Our Hoseok? Our co-founder Hoseok? The Hoseok whose mother gave us the loan to even start this fucking company?” Minhyuk is sitting up now, childishly gleeful expression on his face. “Oh, this is good, Ki. This is priceless, even for you. It wasn’t enough when you started sleeping with the journalist from  _ Forbes _ and got a nice little write-up on yourself instead of on the founders. Now you’ve gone and, what? Fucked Hoseok’s ex? How on earth?”

Kihyun kicks his feet in the air pitifully. “I don’t know! I had no idea! He never talked about him at all. Hoseok never mentioned anyone to us either. How in the hell was I supposed to know?”

“Did Changkyun get with you to make Hoseok jealous?”

Kihyun’s stomach flips over in his gut and sizzles miserably, like a fried egg with a tragically broken yolk. “I don’t know. I’m considering that thought, and I’d really prefer not to.”

“Are  _ you _ jealous?” Minhyuk leans in close, his sharp chin jutting right in front of Kihyun’s face. “Don’t lie to me, Yoo. I’ve known you all my life.”

Kihyun drops his chopsticks to the tray and rubs his clammy palms over the tops of his thighs, the denim rough on his skin. “I don’t know! I tried to avoid feeling anything at all. I’ve had enough of feeling useless things for pretty boys who just want to get fucked good.”

“You’re doing a tremendous job then, Ki,” Minhyuk teases, flicking at Kihyun’s forehead with a  _ thwap _ . Kihyun winces and rubs at the stinging spot. 

“I  _ am _ , thanks. Changkyun is gorgeous and funny and … bizarre, and, God, Minnie, he fucks like barely-restrained panic. I have no complaints.”

“Minus him randomly crying and not telling you why, and, you know, also him being the ex of your boss.”

“Yes,” Kihyun asserts, narrowing his eyes. “Minus those...facts...everything is fine. Peachy. Truly.”

“Thank God you never became an actor all those years ago when you got scouted in Seoul. You are horrible at delivery.”

Kihyun feels his eyes rolling back into his head, a habit around Minhyuk.

“A bunch of the old gang are going back to Shangri-La tonight, you know. I can’t because I’m meeting my parents to discuss being a tragic spinster or whatever, but it’s the five-year anniversary of the club opening. Hakyeon would want you to come, even if you ditched after your embarrassing breakup.”

“It wasn’t embarrassing. It was a mutua--”

“Just come, okay? Bring Changkyun, if you want. Hakyeon loves to inspect new subs.”

“Changkyun isn’t the kind of sub who would fit in there. He’s a true Brat,” Kihyun replies, wincing at the thought of Hakyeon seeing how Changkyun behaves in public. Or in private. Or, ever, at all.

“You must remember who the head Sub is there, though, right?”

Kihyun blinks slowly, realization dawning. “Taek…? OH,  _ shit _ . You’re right.  _ Hongbin _ . Okay, nevermind. We might be okay with Changkyun.”

 

Kihyun isn’t sure what he expected when he told Changkyun, “We’re going to a BDSM club, meet me outside the club at 9,” but it surely wasn’t Changkyun in black leather hotpants, a pink mesh sweater, and a little velvet heart-choker. His legs are smooth and bare and perfectly soft, and he has a wafting scent like peach strawberry body spray. 

“Christ,” Kihyun mutters as Changkyun steps out of the Uber Kihyun had called for him and strides up to the entrance of the club. 

“You didn’t tell me what to wear, so I just looked on Tumblr,” Changkyun says, looking up from beneath his silky bangs with eyes lined in black liner and just a hint of pink glitter at the inner corners. 

The hot pants are tight leather, sticking to Changkyun’s slightly thicker thighs. Kihyun swallows down the surge of lust that percolates down from his brain into his dick. 

“Well thank God you’ve got an ID, because you look sixteen,” Kihyun sighs, herding Changkyun toward the door, where Wonshik is playing bouncer for the night. He’s got his tough-guy black suit pants and blazer on, but he grins like a pleased little french bulldog when Kihyun approaches. 

“I never thought we’d see you again, you dramatic dweebus,” Wonshik cries, pulling Kihyun in for a monstrously tight hug. The guys at Shangri-La always were huggers. “Piece of shit, just ditching us.”

Kihyun hugs back, feeling Changkyun’s hand nervously gripping the hem of his shirt from behind. “Sorry, man. I had some shit to work out. I was a wreck. It’s good now. Happy five years to you guys, by the way.”

“Thanks, man,” Wonshik says. “You drinking tonight or participating?” 

Kihyun looks back at Changkyun, at the little line of Changkyun’s cock behind the leather (because of course he isn’t wearing underwear), at the expanse of tan, hairless skin under the leather, and he groans out, “Participating.” He turns around a bit to look at Changkyun. “Right? I mean, we don’t have to.”

Changkyun nods eagerly, holding out his ID and his hand, for the stamp. “Participating, please,” he says.

Wonshik quirks a thick brow at Changkyun, gaze raking over his pastel approximation of fetish clothing, and then he turns to Kihyun. “And this is?”

Kihyun clears his throat and announces, “This is Changkyun. My partner for...the evening.”

Wonshik glances at Changkyun’s ID and then looks back at Kihyun. He seems like he wants to say something, but he just licks his lips and smirks. “Right then.” 

Wonshik stamps both their hands with a red SL and steps aside to allow them inside the club. 

The front room looks pretty much the same as the last time Kihyun was here. The walls are draped in colorful silks and antique fans. The Korean aesthetic had seemed silly to Kihyun before, when he was new, but it fits the delicate, careful way Hakyeon conducts the club. The bar sits towards the entrance, so the people who aren’t participating and are just spectating can watch from the back, while the clusters of standing tables and pleather (easier to clean) sofas are further in, towards the stage. 

Jaehwan and Sanghyuk are behind the bar, but Jaehwan rushes out to jump on Kihyun when he’s spotted. “You little weasel! You little sonovabitch! How dare you ditch us?”

“I already got this harassment from your bulldog out front, you know,” Kihyun huffs, detaching himself from Jaehwan’s clutches. Jaehwan snatches for his hand, eyes the stamp, and then shifts his gaze to Changkyun. 

“Oh. Oh my god. Oh my god! What do we do? Hyukkie! HYUKKIE!”

“What? Jesus, please --  _ quieter _ . It’s not even one hour into my shift, and I already have a headache,” Sanghyuk whines, patting his forehead with his bar towel.

Unsanitary. This is why Sanghyuk shouldn’t be on bar. Only Taekwoon is clean enough to be on bar.

“You fucked him first,” Hakyeon says, suddenly appearing behind them in his infamously tight black skinny jeans and loosely draped white silk shirt. 

“He looks better than he sounds,” Sanghyuk replies, grabbing a shaker and filling it with ice and gin for the patron sitting on a stool in front of him. Sanghyuk leans forward across the bar and says to the man, “Ain’t that always the way?”

Hakyeon grabs Kihyun by the collar and tugs him closer. “Lemme take a look at you, you stu--”

“Please, I’ve been insulted enough tonight already,” Kihyun interrupts, flushing, knowing Changkyun is watching the way Hakyeon manhandles him with a curiously endeared expression. 

Hakyeon shakes Kihyun with firm tan hands on his shoulders. “We just missed you, fucker. That’s all.”

“I know,” Kihyun sighs, patting Hakyeon on the chest. “I’m here, okay? I’ll come by more, I promise.”

“I can’t believe you used to come here,” Changkyun pipes up finally, still glancing around in bewilderment. “You used to  _ go out _ . To a sex club. A  _ kinky _ sex club.”

Hakyeon looks at Changkyun, peering down at him like an auctioneer looking at an antique ceramic clown doll. “New sub?”

“Something like that,” Kihyun mutters, feeling both embarrassed and protective of Changkyun all at once. 

“What’re your hard limits, sweetheart?” Hakyeon asks, bending down a little to ask Changkyun directly, with his infamously intimidating full eye contact.

“Uh...fluids?” Changkyun offers. “Just the icky ones. Beverages are fine.”

Hakyeon stands back up to his full height and cackles. “I like him. He’s not so serious. Reminds me of someone.”

“Someone who is gonna get his ass  _ reamed _ on stage tonight,” Jaehwan crows. 

“We’re just demonstrating rope technique, Jae,” Hakyeon sighs, shaking his head a little, but still pressing a kiss to his cheek. “We can ream him later.”

Hakyeon presses two kisses to Kihyun’s cheeks and then pats them with his warm hands. “Please stay for the show.”

“Of course I will. Why wouldn’t I?”

Hakyeon nervously glances over to a table at the front, very close to the stage. Kihyun follows his gaze and feels his skin start to shrivel up, like he’s a banana in a fruit dehydrator. 

“Oh, I’ve gotta  _ g _ \--”

“You just said you were staying,” Hakyeon and Jaehwan say, grabbing each of Kihyun’s arms and steering him over to another table near the front, Changkyun trailing behind them, more shy than Kihyun thinks he’s ever seen him. “So you’re staying.”

Kihyun grips the coat hook on the underside of the table and sways a little, knees feeling like chair legs that have had the screws taken out. “I  _ can’t _ \--”

“What’s going on?” Changkyun asks, nosing against Kihyun’s shoulder, body pressed tight to Kihyun’s side. “Who is that person you’re all staring at but pretending not to?”

“My ex,” Kihyun says eventually, once his dry mouth floods again with nervous spit. “The reason I tried to say no to you as many times as I did.”

“Do we hate him?” Changkyun hisses, eyes narrowed (even as they’re sweetly lined with pink glitter and black). “Should I try to take him?”

Kihyun grips the metal hook tighter, breath coming fast, and it’s like he’s taking in too much oxygen, his head swimming with it, making him feel like a thin-trunked tree in a swelling tornado. 

“No, he’s fine. He didn’t do anything wrong. No one did anything wrong,” Kihyun mutters.

Changkyun waves a hand in front of Kihyun’s face, and when Kihyun turns to him, he looks a little lost, a little confused. “If no one did anything wrong, then why are you looking like you just arrived home to find your entire family slaughtered.”

Kihyun shakes his head. “I don’t look like that.”

“Oh, can you see your own face now? Did you learn that at SNU?” Changkyun teases, but Kihyun can barely hear him because there’s someone walking up to that table, someone winding their arm possessively around  _ Kihyun’s _ \--

No.

Shit.

God, and his hair is different. Dyed light blue and wild and frizzy, and it looks amazing. He never seemed like the type before; he was always such a hardass, such a severe dark-haired little thing. With brittle bones and firm rules and little twig legs. 

But now there’s some fat on his thighs. Some broadness to him that wasn’t there. Some softness in his face. He turns his head, and his eyes find Kihyun’s through the slowly-gathering crowd, and Kihyun’s breath catches in his throat. 

He was always beautiful. Always, always beautiful, even before, when they were just friends. But now he’s this otherworldly creature, this little wild spirit, leaning into the chest of the taller man behind him. 

His eyes, having found Kihyun’s, squint into angry little slits, and then he’s moving. Weaving through the crowd.

“Oh, no, oh shit,” Kihyun mutters, and Changkyun steps in front of him like the World’s Tiniest Guard Dog, ready to yip and scratch and howl.

“I’ll destroy him,” Changkyun threatens.

“Kihyun Yoo, goddamnit,” Yoongi says, in that small grumbly way he speaks. “I would’ve thought you died what with all the fuckin’ radio silence.”

Kihyun’s muscles all clench at once like a massive pileup of cars slamming together at a four-way intersection, everyone honking and scrambling for escape around them. “Yoong...i…Right. Yeah, you know how I am. With the work.”

“Right,” Yoongi replies, clearly disbelieving. “I guess only Hakyeon could get you back here eventually,” Yoongi adds, as his date(?????) approaches with their drinks.

“I didn’t know we had friends coming to this,” the guy says, his voice deep and warm in a way Kihyun’s could never, ever be. Must be nicer to listen to him, take orders from him, than to hear Kihyun lisp liltingly through a set of commands. 

“This is my ex-dom,” Yoongi says, and Kihyun feels Changkyun stiffen beside him, like there’s a sudden chill, like a child discovering the presence of a ghost in his bedroom. 

“So this must be your new dom,” Changkyun counters, nodding over in their direction.

“Yeah, I’m Taehyung,” the guy says, extending a gigantic, tan hand in Changkyun’s direction. “You’re Kihyun’s new sub?”

Kihyun is about to protest when Changkyun enthusiastically declares, “Yepp. I’m his  _ baby _ .”

Yoongi looks like he’s appraising Changkyun for market value when he responds, “Interesting aesthetic.”

Changkyun looks down at himself, lifting his arms up in the air by his face, so the ends of the thin mesh sweater dangle like limp noodle paws in front of his face. “Thanks! I like pink.”

Yoongi sucks on his front teeth, still eyeing Changkyun incredulously. “Do you now?”

“I like pink too,” Taehyung says, pinching the loose material of Changkyun’s sweater that hangs in the air. “This is cute. Can we get you one of these, Suga?”

_ Suga _ .

_ Suga???? _

“Go fuck yourself,” Yoongi splutters, knocking a bony elbow into Taehyung’s abdomen. He’s about to add something--presumably another insult, when the lights flicker twice, alerting everyone to the start of the demonstration show.

“Can we hang out here?” Taehyung asks, already settling his coat on one of the hooks under their table. 

“I--”

“ _ Absolutely _ ,” Changkyun squeals, hugging Kihyun’s arm to his stomach to pull him closer, making more room for Yoongi and Taehyung at the little standing table. “What is the show anyhow?”

“Hakyeon said something about ropes.”

“Well that’s helpful,” Yoongi scoffs, rubbing at the end of his cutely lifted nose with the back of his hand. 

If the difference in Yoongi and Changkyun had to be summarized simply, Kihyun would say just look at their noses. Yoongi with his little round lifted nose; Changkyun with his sharp, long, straight-tipped nose. 

He’s not sure what this metaphor means. He majored in business marketing and finance. Something about Yoongi being subtle and quiet and Changkyun being loud and … proud?

God, Kihyun, you need a drink.

Hakyeon strides out onto the stage, and everyone promptly shuts up. Hongbin is kneeling, bare-skinned, in the center of the stage, head lowered obediently.

The lights are dim but soft, a slightly bluish light, instead of something harsh and yellow. Hakyeon doesn’t say anything as he touches the underside of Hongbin’s chin to get him to look up. 

“Safeword, my love?”

“Eat me.” He’s grinning, that crooked, bratty way he always did before. 

“Right, good boy,” Hakyeon laughs, kneeling beside Hongbin on the floor with a length of navy blue bamboo silk rope--the kind that is silky but strong. “I’m going to show everyone how to properly bind you up, okay, love? So be good and--that’s it, sweetheart, arms behind your back.”

Kihyun watches, occasionally getting distracted by the way the light casts shadows on Yoongi and Taehyung. Changkyun is utterly captivated by the show, but Kihyun can’t stop flickering his gaze over across the table.

Taehyung isn’t at all like the dom Kihyun thought Yoongi would leave him for. Yoongi was always so closed-up, like a clam refusing to part its shells no matter how much steam and boiling water it endured. He was always tight-lipped and serious and grouchy, and, sure, he still seems  _ grouchy-- _

But Taehyung is touchy and teasing and loud and isn’t  _ big _ , not really. Kihyun assumed he was never big enough for Yoongi. Wasn’t intimidating enough for him. Yoongi never looked at Kihyun the way he looks at Taehyung, like he’s waiting to be flipped onto his belly and fucked raw.

Hakyeon weaves the rope over Hongbin’s smooth pale skin easily, with clear practice and careful movements. Hakyeon is the kind of dom Kihyun always idolized. The kind of dom Kihyun would’ve been okay with Yoongi leaving him for. He’s confident and dominating and strong. He takes time to build rapport with his subs, with his fellow doms. He’s professional.

Taehyung is just...just  _ silly _ .

Kihyun finds Changkyun waving a hand in front of his face. “Are you paying attention? I want to do this,” Changkyun whispers, nodding at the stage, where Hongbin is being strung up, ropes looped through a metal ring hanging from the ceiling. His thighs are tied up to his calfs and down to his feet, and he’s spread wide, knees up toward his chest.

Kihyun can feel Changkyun shivering next to him, like an excitable little woodland creature. Or like a chihuahua about to piss itself in the front entryway of an apartment after the doorbell rings.

“You want that, baby?” Kihyun manages to finally say back, hands finding Changkyun’s hips, guiding him against Kihyun’s chest. Changkyun wriggles a little in his hold, little plush ass pressing into Kihyun’s crotch, and the sound of the leather against Kihyun’s dark denim makes Kihyun think of the way the leather shifted beneath Changkyun in the car when Changkyun deftly got him off (the benefits of left-handedness) along the Jackie Robinson Parkway while talk radio played quietly in the background.

“Yes,” Changkyun breathes, leaning back into Kihyun harder now, hips circling a little. “He looks so...helpless.”

The way Changkyun says  _ helpless _ , you’d think he was saying the most lurid, erotic phrase he could conjure up. 

And maybe he was.

The lights come up a little. Time always moves strangely in Hakyeon’s club. 

Hakyeon helps lower Hongbin down, stroking warm, comforting hands over his bare skin as he unknots all the loops coiled around Hongbin’s long, lean body.

“And now we invite two pairs to come up and compete for a very special prize. Do we have two pairs that think they can recreate the bind that I just put Hongbin in up here? Anyone?”

Kihyun feels a large hand land on his shoulder. He shudders and knows even before turning around that it’s Taekwoon. 

“No,” Kihyun scoffs, trying to step away, but Taekwoon has silently grabbed hold of his arm, [im]patiently waiting for him to acquiesce. 

“But there’s a prize,” Taekwoon mutters. “You like prizes, don’t you, Kihyun.” 

It’s not a question.

On the other side of the table, Jaehwan is dragging Taehyung and Yoongi up to the stage. Well, Taehyung is going easily, seeming pretty enthused actually, and Yoongi is just following after them, seemingly emotionless about the whole scenario. 

“Let’s do it,” Changkyun says, determined, as he watches Taehyung and Yoongi climb up the steps onto the stage. “I wanna win.”

“We shouldn’t--”

“We need to win, Daddy,” Changkyun whines, slipping his arm through Taekwoon’s (catching him hilariously off-guard; his round, angry kitten-face contorting in a weird, confused grimace). “Please, please, can we win, Daddy? We  _ must _ ,” Changkyun says, already-deep voice sinking even lower, in a terrifying satanic growl. 

Kihyun knows he’s moving up on stage, knows that Hakyeon is handing him a length of red bamboo silk rope (and slapping him heartily on the back like a show pony being clapped on the hindquarters), knows that Changkyun and Yoongi are stripping themselves bare under the soothing pale blue lights. 

Kihyun looks at Yoongi, at the little ridges of his ribs beneath his pale skin, at the gentle slope of his outer thighs out from his hips, at the focussed, dark look he gets when he looks up at Taehyung.

His new dom. Taehyung. His...boyfriend, even. Maybe.

And, God, Kihyun focusses back and Changkyun is already hard-half. His sweet little perverted freak of a baby is  _ hard _ up on stage, waiting to be hoisted in the air like a rotisserie chicken for all these strangers, and Kihyun keeps looking for signs that Yoongi made a mistake leaving him.

But Yoongi isn’t his. Yoongi was never his. 

Taehyung has ropes already criss-crossed over Yoongi’s arms and thighs, and Kihyun is just standing there like a fool with a perfectly naked, utterly and completely trusting boy blinking up at him from his knees on the stage.

“I’m sorry, baby,” Kihyun says, kneeling in front of Changkyun and gripping his chin between his thumb and forefinger. “You deserve my undivided attention, don’t you?”

Changkyun nods, knocking his head into Kihyun’s chest and rubbing it there. “Please, let’s win.”

Kihyun nods, cards his hands through Changkyun’s hair. “We got this, baby, I promise.”

Taehyung is struggling to form the load-bearing knots, but Kihyun helped teach Hakyeon this shibari hold. Kihyun knows this shibari hold like the back of his hand. It takes a long time to craft, and an even longer time to recreate perfectly. Taehyung never had a chance.

Changkyun moves easily, letting Kihyun maneuver him onto his back and front and knees, until he can be strung up on the metal ring. Changkyun looks euphoric up in the air, his bare little ass hoisted up at Kihyun’s face-level. 

Beside them, Taehyung is giggling, with Yoongi still on the floor like a tied hog. “I’m sorry, baby,” Taehyung is saying, and Yoongi is snorting with disdain, but somehow still grinning. 

“Whatever, you ass, just get me out of this,” Yoongi replies bitterly, before he bursts into thick raucous laughter himself.

Kihyun walks closer to Changkyun, touches his cheek, and Changkyun leans into the touch. “Thank you.”

Changkyun blinks his eyes open, confused, brows pulling together. “Thank...thank  _ you _ , though.”

The house lights come on. 

Changkyun is naked and dripping precum on his little wrinkled belly, and his thick thighs are spread wide with the ropes, and Kihyun drags a finger between his ass cheeks before Hakyeon knees him in the tailbone.

“Get a room,” Hakyeon huffs, jangling a set of keys in Kihyun’s face. “Literally. Get a room. It’s on me. Your prize for winning. It was gonna be a Shangri-La t-shirt, but you deserve this. I’ve never seen anyone make that shibari hold so quickly.”

“This is the Executive Suite,” Kihyun mumbles, looking down at the keys now resting in his palm. “Hakyeon, you charge like 250 an hour for this room.”

“Will you just shut up and fuck this poor baby,” Hakyeon replies, heaving a still fully-tied-up Changkyun up into his arms and holding him out to Kihyun like a sack of flour. 

“Please take me,” Changkyun says quietly, shivering all over. 

Kihyun grabs for Changkyun, cradling him like a princess to his chest. “Okay. Yeah, yeah, I should.”

“You’re a good dom, Kihyun. You’re a good guy. Just because you weren’t the right dom for one person, doesn’t mean you’re the wrong dom for everyone.”

Kihyun looks back one more time at Taehyung squishing Yoongi’s cheeks as he tries to untie the shoddy knots he’d made all along Yoongi’s torso. At Yoongi giggling with the most adoring mirth in his eyes. 

“I hate when you’re right,” Kihyun grumbles, taking the ramp down off the stage, afraid to navigate stairs with Changkyun in his arms. Changkyun is so pliant, though he does needily squirm a little when Kihyun breathes hot and gentle on his throat. 

“What do you need, baby?” Kihyun asks, as Jaehwan holds the Executive Suite door open for them, until Kihyun can place Changkyun down on the bed in the room like a fragile freight package. Then he locks the door, after watching Jaehwan smirk and wink like a freaky Shakespearean fairy. 

“I need you to touch me. I need you to, I need,” Changkyun babbles, rocking like an awkward little turtle trapped on its back, his arms tied behind him, his thighs held open and apart.

“You’re so special, Changkyun,” Kihyun coos, perching on the edge of the bed, loosening his belt, and Changkyun watches him carefully slip it from the belt loops and drop it to the floor. “I don’t know where you came from or why you want me of all people, but I want you to know how grateful I am that you do. That you came to me. That you trust me.”

“I just know these things,” Changkyun responds. “I need the kind of Daddy who carries lube and wet wipes. I’m a very messy person.”

Kihyun eyes the little puddle of precum on Changkyun’s soft belly and nods. “You sure are, baby. Very, very messy.”

“And you work hard. At first it was the look, the--the, a- _ ah _ ,” Changkyun blurts, as Kihyun presses the pad of his thumb against the slit of Changkyun’s cock, just tapping at the beads of precum. “The dumbass sweater vests--your stupid extra-small sweater vests.”

Kihyun scoffs. “Excuse you, I own a medium sweater vest.”

Changkyun rolls his eyes, even as he tries to buck his hips up into Kihyun’s incredibly light touch. “One medium vest does not a medium human make.”

“Oh, sweetheart, you really shouldn’t talk back when I’ve got you like this,” Kihyun says, laughing under his breath.

He gets Changkyun rigged up to the ring hanging in the center of the room so he’s hanging, naked and spread open for Kihyun. (Kihyun did have to call Wonshik for help. Wonshik tried not to snicker too much).

Changkyun makes the prettiest sounds when Kihyun gets his mouth on him. Licking into him, teasing him open on his tongue. 

Kihyun brings Changkyun to the edge three times in fifteen minutes, and doesn’t let him come. Changkyun cries. Trusting and helpless.

Helpless, just like he’d wanted.

His face is sticky with tears and snot but he’s still the most beautiful thing Kihyun’s ever seen, head tipped back as he yelps his frustration to echo against the four walls of their gold-painted Executive Suite. 

He babbles for a while, when Kihyun unzips his jeans just enough to sneak his cock out through the fly, enough to roll a condom down and slick himself up and tease the head of his cock against Changkyun’s loosened hole for a whole minute. 

Kihyun coos at him, telling him that he’s made for this. He was made for Kihyun’s cock, to be fucked like this, hanging there all helpless, all sweet and pretty and helpless. Changkyun revels in the praise, Kihyun knows, even when the praise is masked as humiliation.

Changkyun wails, really wails, when Kihyun finally ruts into him like Changkyun’s feelings on the matter are irrelevant.

(Of course they aren’t. Kihyun would rather literally turn into a dead crustacean than hurt Changkyun Im. Kihyun cares about Changkyun’s feeling probably more than he intended, more than he should.)

Changkyun hasn’t been allowed to come in the last twenty-five minutes, so he really screams loudly when Kihyun squeezes the tip of his cock. But Kihyun knows he’ll take care of him. That’s what Changkyun wants.

Yoongi never really cared for Kihyun’s aftercare. Thought it was frivolous or superfluous or whatever annoying “ous” word he’d used then. Changkyun seems to revel in it, like he’s earned it and wants to really soak it up. Like he trusts what Kihyun does. Like he knows Kihyun wants to do this right, for him. Because Kihyun knows what’s right.

“You gonna come for me, baby? You did so well. I’m so proud of you,” Kihyun says, loosening the tight grip he’d held at the base of Changkyun’s cock while he fucked into him, trying for his prostate every stroke. It’s easier to thrust like this, with his hands free, Changkyun suspended in the air perfectly for him. 

Changkyun can’t make words, can only nod and wheeze and gasp, and Kihyun strokes him to release torturously slowly.

Changkyun comes like he hasn’t come in weeks. Straining at the ropes and screaming and screaming and flooding his chest and stomach with cum.

“Jesus,” Kihyun says, eyes locked on every tensed muscle in Changkyun’s body, hips stuttering, pulling out to rip the condom off and stroke himself to completion so that his own release mixes with Changkyun’s on his skin. Like some kind of base, hideous marking system. Possession.

Changkyun is gingerly lowered down to the plush carpeted floor, and Kihyun carefully, oh so carefully, undoes all of the knots binding his limbs.

He massages the harsh lines the ropes made in Changkyun’s skin, rubs a little minor burn cream along the one at the base of Changkyun’s spine that scratched harshly at his skin. Changkyun keeps crying, and Kihyun finds that he’s started crying too. Kihyun hasn’t cried in a scene in so long. So, so long. 

The release became superficial, after a while. People forget that doms need this too. This release. This moment, trapped and connected in a world they created together.

Changkyun clings to him so needily, so desperately that Kihyun’s chest fills with water and it spills out his eyes.

Neither of them can move, so they just talk. 

“Why do you trust me so much?”

“Because I  _ like _ you.”

“You wanted this for a sugar daddy.”

“I wanted this for you.”

“But you said.”

“I lied. I sold the sweater. I gave the money to my mom.”

Kihyun freezes, his hands filled with filthy balled-up wet wipes. “What?”

“I only ever wanted you. I wanted what I knew you could give me.”

“Changkyun.”

Changkyun is still sobbing, clinging to Kihyun’s shirt and burying his face in it. “Please don’t throw me away. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so so so sorry. I like you, Kihyun. I want you to keep me;  _ please _ keep me.”

Kihyun threads his fingers through Changkyun’s hair and tugs gently to get him to move his face away from Kihyun’s shirt.

“Why, though? Give me a reason.”

Changkyun shakes his head. “I just like you. I like peanut butter, I like jelly beans, I like fuzzy slippers, I like long sweaters, I like you.”

“It isn’t...you mean you like how I fuck you.”

Kihyun watches Changkyun’s adam’s apple dip and rise as he swallows. “No, Kihyun. I like all of it. I like your fake medium-sized sweater vest and the weird way you lunge when you stand behind your desk and the kind of maniacal satisfaction you get when you see Minhyuk trapped in meetings with Legal.”

Kihyun’s blood feels like thumb tacks. Like an avalanche of thumb tacks just coursing through his veins, pricking and nipping and stinging and--

“But Yoongi said--”

“Yoongi said what?” Changkyun groans, finally strong enough to move out of the fetal position, to straddle Kihyun’s hips.

“That I...that I wasn’t right. I wouldn’t ever be right,” Kihyun chokes out, vision blurring as Changkyun winds his arms around his neck and clings desperately.

“For him, Kihyun. For him, you weren’t right. And that’s...that’s okay. That’s normal. Like me and Hoseok. We weren’t. We weren’t right either. It’s fucking hard. To find something like this. I’ve never been able to let go like this before. Ever. And I did one of those therapies where you just sit in a room and color for two hours.”

Kihyun manages a small chuckle, but it kind of burns in this throat. “You’re so young, Changkyun. You don’t know what’s right.”

“Even a child knows when something feels right, Kihyun. It’s instinctual. I hate when people say kids don’t know what love is.”

Kihyun’s hands freeze where they’ve started petting the small of Changkyun’s back, where the ropes branded over his skin. “Are you saying.”

“Don’t freak out,” Changkyun squawks, pounding his little fists over Kihyun’s chest. “I’m, A, not a child, and, B, I’m just saying I know this is something. Something more than sugar daddy. Which you never really were.”

“You like when I buy you things. I saw you staring at the diamonds in the elevator,” Kihyun says, slipping his fingers down between Changkyun’s cheeks and up inside his slick hole. Changkyun shudders and grips Kihyun’s shoulders tightly. Kihyun just gently strokes his fingers over Changkyun’s walls, watches the way he squinches his eyes up tight at the overstimulation but still rocks himself down into the touch.

“I like being given stuff,” Changkyun admits breathlessly, “but I like being given stuff because you want to give me stuff. Not because it’s...equal exchange or whatever.  _ Fuck, Kihyun _ ,” he gasps, grabbing Kihyun’s wrist to get him to still his hand. 

“You just called me Kihyun. While we’re naked.”

“I’m sorry,  _ Daddy _ .”

“No, I...I liked it,” Kihyun mutters, and Changkyun assaults his face with kisses. The kind of kisses you give a newborn baby kitten or a newborn baby sibling or a  _ boyfriend _ .

“You’re cute, Mr. COO,” Changkyun sing-songs, fingers tracing along Kihyun’s jaw. 

“So, uh,” Kihyun says, clumsily hefting Changkyun and himself up to standing and waddling them over to the bed. The sheets and blankets are silky and expensive, for the high-paying patrons. Changkyun goes down easily, splaying himself out on his back, reaching up to drag Kihyun back down over him. Kihyun thumbs over Changkyun’s cheek, over the dimpled scars in his tan skin. Changkyun grimaces and swats at Kihyun’s hand. Kihyun grabs Changkyun’s wrists and throws them down against the mattress above Changkyun’s head. “Let. Me.” He leans in and presses his lips to Changkyun’s scarred cheeks. “You’re so beautiful, Changkyun. Really, I swear to fuck, I have trouble looking at you sometimes. I just...want to cram you up in my mouth and hide you in my mouth pouch like a hamster.”

“That’s weird. I have hard vore limits.”

“I just mean you’re adorable. Like a little cheese ball. I just want to have you with me all the time.”

Changkyun hooks his ankles behind Kihyun’s back and tugs him in. “So, whatever. We dig each other. Gross old people shit.” He glances to the side, at the large wooden clock on the wall. “Uh, how much longer do we have this room? Because I saw a leather crop in the bucket over there that is shaped like a rose, and a paddle with the word SLUT on it, and I’d like to have to be pulled out of here in a little children’s wagon.”

“I also saw a ball-gag over there, so don’t press your luck.”

  
  
  



	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: this is the last Changki-centric chapter in this universe, and I'm really reluctant to post this and end it, but I want all of you to have the ending now. Finally. Thank you all for following along this lurid tale of nonsense and filth, and thank you for your love and comments and excitement. Plz find me on twitter @likesatellitez and tell me if this story meant anything to you. <3

On Thursday, April 12th, Hyunwoo picks Changkyun up from work again. He looks nervous as he reaches for Changkyun’s backpack. 

“What is it?” 

Hyunwoo bites the inside of his cheek and shrugs. “Changkyun, let’s not do this.”

Changkyun stares blankly up at Hyunwoo’s face for a moment before he shakes his head. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

Hyunwoo grabs Changkyun’s wrist and just starts walking toward the uptown train to his own apartment. “Your boss called me to come pick you up at 3pm on a Thursday, and you wanna pretend everything is fine?”

Changkyun huffs, yanking his wrist away from Hyunwoo’s grip and shoving his hands into his pockets. “I was feeling sick.”

“You sent a weird email to a client and then proceeded to bawl your eyes out on your boss’s floor, refusing to explain anything until he felt the need to call me. Anything ringing a bell there?”

Changkyun shakes his head, lips pressed tightly together.

“Changkyun, you know what tomorrow is.”

“Nope. Sure don’t. I think it’s Friday? The 13th?”

Hyunwoo sighs and swipes his metrocard. “For your mom, Changkyun, please.”

Changkyun follows after him through the turnstile. “For my mom, what? You don’t get to tell me what I need to do for my own mom.”

“She’s--”

“ _ Don’t _ . Don’t make me say it, Hyunwoo. I’ve said it once, and I promised not to say it again, but this is one of those times, I need you to let this go. Please. Just...let this go.”

“You’re still staying with me tonight.”

“I wanna go home.”

Hyunwoo shoots Changkyun an unreadable look, that might’ve been either smug or concerned. “Kihyun told me to take you to my place. He said you would argue.”

“The email wasn’t  _ that _ weird,” Changkyun defends, leaning back against the opposite doors of the train, staring at his sneakers beside a sticky blue gatorade stain on the floor. 

Hyunwoo pulls his phone from his pocket and holds it in front of Changkyun’s face. 

It’s a photo of the email. 

Kihyun, that  _ snake _ .

“A client asked you how he could prevent losing unsaved changes to his account page, and you said, and I quote:  _ You know nothing about loss _ .” Hyunwoo arches a brow in Changkyun’s direction.

“So it was a little out of place,” Changkyun concedes. 

“Changkyun, please,” Hyunwoo pleads, pressing his fingers into Changkyun’s cheeks. “Talk to me. If there is anyone you can talk to about this, it’s me. You know that.”

“I do know that. But there’s nothing to say. It’s been four years, and I still have nothing to say.”

Hyunwoo orders a pizza. Veggie, with the green peppers, tomatoes, onions, mushrooms on half because mushrooms taste like rubbery dirt to Changkyun. 

Changkyun sits on Hyunwoo’s bed, shirtless, pantless, crunched up against the headboard, using the little fold of his belly fat as a little table/plate for his slice of pizza. 

Hyunwoo sits on the end of the bed, eating his slice out of the box. He looks at the grease sliding down the side of Changkyun’s stomach onto his sheets and sighs. “Kihyun seemed really worried about you.”

“He’s my boss.”

“He’s your boyfriend.”

Changkyun looks up, panicked. Hyunwoo sighs again, leaning over to swipe at the trail of grease on Changkyun’s stomach before it puddles on his bed. 

“I know I seem stupid, Changkyun, but I’m actually not,” Hyunwoo says.

“I’ve never considered you stupid,” Changkyun defends.

“A little slow, then.”

Changkyun grimaces and shrugs. “Maybe a little.”

“I’ve known you my whole life,” Hyunwoo explains, dropping the crust of his pizza slice into the box and wiping his semolina flour-dusted hands onto his sweatpants. “I don’t know math very well, and I’m not sure I could name more than four countries in Africa, but if there’s anything I know, it’s you.”

Changkyun pulls his arms around his knees, tucks them into his chest, and tries to make himself as small as possible. “I wish you’d just leave me alone.”

“You know I can’t do that.”

“I’m dealing with it,” Changkyun lies. 

“What, by fucking your boss?” Hyunwoo asks, grabbing Changkyun’s knees and pulling them away from his face. “You’re gonna hurt yourself.”

“Kihyun would never hurt me,” Changkyun mutters, letting Hyunwoo maneuver him onto his side, with Hyunwoo’s arm wrapped around his middle, spooned warmly against his back. 

“I didn’t say Kihyun was gonna hurt you,” Hyunwoo says, petting the too-long hairs behind Changkyun’s ear that he really needs to get trimmed. “I said you were gonna hurt yourself.”

“I deserve it.”

“If you won’t talk to me about it, please talk to him. Talk to Kihyun. You trust him, don’t you?”

“There’s no reason,” Changkyun huffs, pulling the comforter up to his chin. 

“You’ve been punishing yourself for too long, Kyunnie. And the more you push it down, the more you try to forget, the bigger disservice you do him.”

Changkyun fists the comforter tightly and shivers. “You don’t understand.”

“Then explain it to me.”

“He should’ve had everything.”

 

Hanbin was the kind of brother that all of Changkyun’s friends wished they had. He was top of his class, friendly, but so  _ fucking cool _ . Changkyun remembers when Hanbin came home with his first tattoo, and their mom cried for hours but couldn’t tell him to get rid of it because it was a Bible quote, and she figured that would be sacrilegious.

When Changkyun turned sixteen, Hanbin took him out in his 1997 Nissan Altima and taught him how to drive by circling the local Church parking lot. 

When Changkyun turned eighteen, Hanbin bought him a pack of cigarettes and made him sit there and smoke one while Hanbin watched. When Changkyun took a puff, choked, and grimaced, Hanbin laughed and said, “Gross, right?” and tossed the rest of the pack out. “Now that’s settled.”

Their mom never gave either of them ‘the talk.’ Hanbin had several girlfriends by the time Changkyun was brave enough to ask ‘how’s it work?’ And Hanbin said, “You already know what you’ve got. Where do you wanna put it?” Changkyun shrugged and said, “I dunno. Do I have to put it somewhere?” Hanbin shook his head and said, “Nah.”

Hanbin came out first, too. Sat Changkyun and their mom down on the night before Chuseok and said, “I’ve got a boyfriend. His name is Bobby, and he’s coming over later because his family doesn’t do Chuseok anymore in America.”

Made it easier for Changkyun to tentatively raise a hand and say, “Uh, me too? I don’t have a Bobby, but the other part of that. Me too.”

Changkyun knows Hanbin wasn’t perfect. He went through a phase where Changkyun never saw him eat, and when he did, he stood in front of a mirror afterwards for a long while, just smoothing his hands over his stomach. Hanbin and their mother fought a bunch, too, when Hanbin was going to pick a college. Hanbin wanted to go to California, where Bobby was going. But their mom couldn’t bear the thought of one of her sons that far away. Hanbin decided to stay, go to Baruch. Bobby went to LA. 

And this is where everything gets a little fuzzy for Changkyun. 

Because he knows that everything is his fault. Because he knows that Hanbin was in his 1997 Nissan Altima (with smelly cloth back seats from the time Changkyun accidentally left takeout calamari under the seat in the summer) because of him. Because Changkyun wanted to meet a guy on Grindr at some club in East New York, and he panicked at 1:27 am because he was a little stoned and a little drunk and a lot lost. 

Because Changkyun called him at 1:27 am, hyperventilating, and Hanbin asked him to send him a pin of his location. He was gonna come pick him up. Just find a safe place to stay until he arrives, okay? Is there a 7-11? Changkyun doesn’t remember.

He only remembers being so scared and so, so lost.

And then, suddenly, so relieved. Because Hanbin was coming for him. In his old, gray 1997 Nissan Altima with smelly cloth back seats. 

But Hanbin didn’t come.

And the next call Changkyun got was from Hyunwoo. Hyunwoo, who had been Hanbin’s best friend since they were in Gymboree as toddlers. Whose mother was often not home because she volunteered at the local battered women’s shelter in the Presbyterian church, and would Hanbin’s mother mind watching him for the weekend--again--sorry to impose? 

Hyunwoo who was with him, in the car. 

 

Changkyun knows he’s in a bad mood on Friday, April 13th, when Kihyun meets him at his front door in Long Island. 

“I need you to fuck me,” Changkyun says, pushing his way through the doorway and tossing his coat onto the floor, along with his shoes. He’s unbuttoning his flannel shirt when Kihyun grabs his wrists. 

“I made lunch. We’re gonna eat first,” he says, pulling Changkyun against him and kissing him. 

“Lunch?”

Kihyun hums, leading him to the kitchen with their bodies still close together. “Spaghetti.”

“ _ Spaghetti _ spaghetti or--” Changkyun sees the steaming bowls of elbows with homemade marinara sauce. He smirks.

“It’s all your fault, you know,” Kihyun says, pinching Changkyun’s hip before going to grab two forks. “I  _ know _ that pasta have different names. I know all the names, too.”

“They’re all spaghetti to me. That’s all my mom ever called them. They’re all spaghetti. And it’s only spaghetti when it comes with red sauce.”

“Your mother has an excuse. She’s an immigrant who knew no English when she first got here. You have no excuse,” Kihyun chides.

“Well, you say it now, too, so what’s your excuse?” Changkyun teases, grabbing his bowl and padding over to the sofa to switch the television on. 

“My excuse is that I love to see you smile when I say it,” Kihyun replies.

Changkyun mimes himself vomiting onto the coffee table. Kihyun kicks him with a socked foot as he drops down beside him on the sofa and steals the remote out of his hand. 

“When did you get so greasy, huh?” Changkyun says, shaking his head wearily. 

Kihyun smirks and drags the knit blanket down from the back of the couch over their laps. “It’s innate.”

“Remind me why I find you sexy again,” Changkyun grumbles, stabbing little elbow noodles with his fork.

Kihyun turns on HGTV, puts the closed captioning on (because they both have trouble understanding the southern accents), and pulls Changkyun up against his side, Changkyun’s cheek against Kihyun’s shoulder. “Because you have awful taste.”

“Hoseok was a good choice,” Changkyun mutters, loud enough for Kihyun to hear--on purpose. 

Kihyun quirks a brow in Changkyun’s direction. “Are you trying to rile me up for something?”

“I’m just saying. He’s real big. Very rich. Very handsome. Pretty fat di--”

Kihyun grabs Changkyun’s bowl and brings it down with a loud clatter to the coffee table, and then Changkyun is flat on his back on the couch cushions with Kihyun bearing down over him. The tip of Kihyun’s nose brushes against Changkyun’s, and it tickles. 

“Would you travel to Long Island three of seven days a week to see Hoseok?”

Changkyun presses his lips together. 

Kihyun leans in closer, grazing his teeth over Changkyun’s earlobe, breath hot against the skin. “Did Hoseok ever make you come untouched, with your wrists bound behind your back, and with just two fingers inside you?”

Changkyun’s breath shudders out of him. He shakes his head.

“Did Hoseok make you come so many times in one night that your orgasms were dry?” Kihyun’s eyes are intense, dark, unblinking as he stares down at Changkyun like he can read his every want, need, ambition, regret, desire, caloric intake. 

Changkyun shakes his head again.

Kihyun pinches his fingers around Changkyun’s chin, pressing in against the skin just under his lips, until his lips part. “Words, baby.”

Changkyun softly wheezes out, “No, Daddy. He didn’t. Only you did.”

Kihyun sits up, hands Changkyun back his bowl. “That’s right, baby. That’s right.”

Changkyun stirs his spaghetti around for a few minutes, watching as the nice white couple on HGTV helps another nice white couple fix up a bizarrely cheap Texas property, before he blurts, “I wanna try something.”

Kihyun doesn’t look away from the television, scooping noodles into his mouth. “Mhmm?”

Changkyun places his bowl onto his thighs, stomach somehow uneasy. “I want you to yell at me.”

Kihyun shuts off the television. “Yell at you or...humiliate you?”

Changkyun swallows thickly, fiddling with a loose yarn loop in the knit blanket. “The second one. I want you to hit me and tell me I’m garbage.”

Kihyun’s chin wrinkles in that way it does when he’s confused or concerned or thinking about anything at all. “Baby. You’re clearly struggling with something. I don’t wanna--”

“I’m asking for it. I know what I need. Listen to me.”

Kihyun still looks nervous, but he gives a short little nod. “Please use your safeword if you start genuinely feeling shitty, okay?”

Changkyun sucks at his front teeth. “Okay. Yeah. I can do that. You’ll do it?”

Kihyun grabs the bowls from the coffee table and stands. “I’m gonna put these away for later. Go wash up. I want to do this in my bedroom, just in case you...just in case.”

Changkyun watches Kihyun’s shoulder blades shifting under his button-down as he walks back to the kitchen. Changkyun heads up the stairs, feeling the need to be quiet for some reason, and locks himself in the bathroom. He normally leaves the bathroom door open while he showers, just in case Kihyun feels like joining him and utilizing the Costco industrial-sized bottle of water-resistant lube he keeps under the sink. 

But tonight Changkyun locks the door and showers quickly under lukewarm water, feeling like maybe he doesn’t deserve the luxury of hot water. It puts him in the mindset. This is probably not how it’s supposed to work, with Changkyun drilling himself down into some kind of shamed little ditch before he’s even in the Scene.

No, he knows for sure that isn’t how it’s supposed to work. This should be for pleasure, but Changkyun doesn’t feel any coil of lust in his belly at the moment. Normally the thought of Kihyun walking into his bedroom to find Changkyun on his knees, naked on the little shag area rug usually makes Changkyun’s head fill with warm, comforting smoke, but today Changkyun just feels nervous goosebumps blooming over the notches of his spine as he waits. He feels cold.

Kihyun walks in, unbuttoning his shirt, and Changkyun’s breath catches. 

Kihyun is so gorgeous. Gorgeous in this delicate, untouchable way that Changkyun always envied in others. He is lean but holds so much strength. Changkyun, with more weight on his frame but significantly less strength, often feels like a water balloon in Kihyun’s presence, while Kihyun is something sturdy. Something carved from strong wood.

Kihyun walks over and stands in front of Changkyun. “Safeword, baby?”

Changkyun clears his throat. “I want colors. Traffic light.”

Kihyun presses the sole of his socked foot to Changkyun’s chest and  _ shoves _ . Changkyun collapses backward, bracing himself on his hands. Kihyun keeps the pressure on Changkyun’s bare chest, twisting his foot a little. “Little slut. Trying to be good. I know you better than that.”

Changkyun huffs and Kihyun digs his heel in. “I’m the best you’ve ever had,” Changkyun spits.

Kihyun stands over Changkyun with his jaw set tightly. For a second, Changkyun can see through the shield of Control that Kihyun throws over his body like a glamour while he’s in a Scene. He knows, from back when this first started; from when Kihyun was pillowing Changkyun’s head on his thigh and brushing his hair away from his eyes; from when Kihyun said  _ hard limits: I won’t punish you for things you want to be punished for _ .  _ Then it isn’t punishment. It’s flagellation.  _

But Changkyun can feel the tension clogging up his ear canals and stuffing up his sinuses and making it hard to think or breathe. He clenches his fingers into his palms and wiggles his toes and arches up into the pressure against his chest.

Kihyun’s expression shifts into a scowl. A grimace. Back to a scowl. Like he can’t decide if he’s disappointed or disgusted. He squats down beside Changkyun and grips his chin tightly. “Useless little thing. Isn’t this what you want? Your purpose is taking. Taking what I give you.”

Changkyun squints, bares his teeth. “More.”

Kihyun scrunches his chin again. Like he’s anxious but fighting it. His eyelids fall heavier over his eyes, his jaw shifting beneath his skin. “Filthy. Worthless little baby. What could you ever give me?”

There it is. The shame licking hot in his belly. It sears behind his eyes like hot palms pressed up inside his skull. A soft whimper bubbles out from Changkyun’s lips, something pathetic and miserable. Yes.

This is catharsis, right?

_ Tell me what to feel _ , Changkyun begs with his entire body, prostrating himself on the ground like he doesn’t have the wherewithal to lift himself up. 

Kihyun toes at Changkyun’s belly, his skin pink and flushed. “You think you deserve my cock? Hm?”

Changkyun shakes his head, breath coming rapidly as the words sink into his pores and bleed into his veins, spreading all through his body. 

“That’s right, baby,” Kihyun says, grabbing Changkyun and flipping him onto his belly, hoisting his bare ass up, spreading his cheeks and inspecting him. “God you’re pretty,” Kihyun breathes, and Changkyun kicks at him. 

“No,” he says, jaw clenched tight. 

Kihyun halts in his movement, and Changkyun has never seen him slip in and out of a Scene before like this. “I think that’s enough,” he replies, after a moment.

The tears clinging to Changkyun’s eyelashes drip down his cheeks as he blinks. “You can’t. I’m not done. What kind of dom stops mid-scene? You can’t handle it?”

Kihyun bites down on his bottom lip and rises back up to standing. Changkyun is frightened for a moment that he’s lost. That Kihyun is giving up. That he’s going to end the Scene right there. 

“Color?”

“Green.”

Kihyun slaps him. Changkyun’s skin burns, and he gasps, clutching his warm palm to it, which just makes it sting more. The tears fall from his chin onto his bare chest, and it tickles. 

“You don’t deserve any of it. Cocky, disobedient slut.”

Changkyun claws at Kihyun’s pant leg. “But I want it.”

Kihyun kicks his leg, as if dispelling a clinging insect. “Who would want you? Who would  _ ever _ \--”

The ringing in Changkyun’s ears becomes a screech, like tires ripping over asphalt, and Changkyun screams aloud. Screams his safeword, screams nonsense. Just screams.

Kihyun, alarmed, drops down in front of Changkyun, clutching at his face, brushing his tears away. “Changkyun. Changkyun, hey, baby, shhh, hey. Hey, listen to my voice, okay? Hey, shhh. Changkyun.” 

Changkyun lets himself be maneuvered into Kihyun’s lap, full-body shuddering and sobbing so loudly it’s more like a wail. Like the cats that sit outside his apartment in the hot weeknights in July, caterwauling in their hunger. 

Kihyun is kissing his face, brushing his hair away from his face with frantic, shaking hands. “Baby, I’m so sorry. I should have known. I should have put my foot down. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have--”

Changkyun shakes his head and buries his nose in the crook of Kihyun’s neck. “I asked. I asked, and I couldn’t take it.”

“I do,” Kihyun says, kissing the crown of Changkyun’s head gently, arms coiled around him safely. 

“You what?”

“I want you. I always want you. I will always want you.”

 

Changkyun and Kihyun are sitting in their pajamas on the floor in Kihyun’s living room now, eating the dinners they didn’t finish earlier. Changkyun pokes at a macaroni noodle and sighs. 

“My brother’s dead,” he says.

Kihyun looks up sharply, eyes wide and dark in the dimly-lit room, just one floor-lamp switched on over by the television set. “I know.”

Changkyun squeezes his calves under his pajama pants. “ _ How _ ?”

“You talk in your sleep.”

“Bullshit.”

“How would you know?”

“I’ve recorded myself sleeping before, for curiosity’s sake. I just make soft mewling noises.”

Kihyun laughs, face scrunching up. “You sure do.”

“So how did you know?”

“Your mom told me.”

“How the  _ fuck _ did my mom tell you?”

Kihyun lifts a hand and taps on his fingers with the fingers of his opposite hand. “Wonho told Hyunwoo we were dating, so Hyunwoo told your mom, and your mom told Hyunwoo to tell Wonho to tell me that you lost your brother, and it made you a little... _ difficult _ .”

Changkyun drops his head into his hands. “Everyone says  _ get yourself a support system, Changkyun; it’ll be good for you, Changkyun;  _ but now here I am. Betrayed.”

Kihyun is still staring at him in that serious, scrunched-face way.

Changkyun sighs. “It happened a couple years ago. Before I went to Korea to study. I’ve never actually talked to anyone about it before,” Changkyun admits, heart squeezing itself up into his throat, making it hard to get words out. “He was...I idolized him, you know? Everything he did, I wanted to do. He hated jelly, and I wanted to hate jelly. I  _ love _ jelly, but Hanbin hated it, so I swore I hated it.”

Kihyun’s brows pull together, but he’s listening.

“He had no idea I loved it and was pretending, obviously. And, like,  _ God _ , he was just good. In every way a person can be good. But not in a weird unrealistic way. He was no Jesus or whatever. But he cared more than anyone I knew. And I took him away.”

Kihyun scoots a little closer, lays his hand on Changkyun’s thigh, over the fleece of his pajama bottoms. “Changkyun, I’ve seen you covered in jizz and your own snot and tears, you can tell me anything.”

“He was picking me up. I was in my hoe-phase or whatever, and I got lost in East New York, and I asked him to get me, and I was so scared, and he would do anything for me. For me and my--our mom. But he never showed up.”

Kihyun’s gaze softens, understanding. 

“An accident?”

“A big fuckin’ Hertz pretzel truck rammed into him at a four-way intersection. I guess he was speeding a little, went through a red light. He was--” Changkyun’s voice cracks, and he feels his lip quivering like a child’s. “Crushed. He was  _ crushed _ , Kihyun. Hyunwoo was in the car with him. He...they...I got the call, and there was nothing to do. There wasn’t even a moment to hold his hand as he lay dying. He was just gone. One moment he was texting ‘on my way’ and the next he was just  _ fucking _ \--”

“Hey,” Kihyun says, wrapping his arms around Changkyun again and cooing gently. “That’s in no way your fault.”

“If I hadn’t gone out. If I had just managed to do one fucking thing...just one fucking thing right.”

“He loved you. He loved you,” Kihyun says, sweet breathy voice right against Changkyun’s neck. “He thought you deserved that love, and you do. It’s not fair to him to stop loving yourself when he died loving you.”

Changkyun swells up in a massive wave in Kihyun’s arms and lets himself shake for a while.

 

Hoseok, Hyunwoo, Hyungwon, Kihyun, Jooheon, Minhyuk and Changkyun are all sitting in Veselka at 11 pm on a Saturday night, at three tables pushed together shoddily. 

“What are these?” Hoseok asks, prodding the pierogies in the center of the table with a butter knife. 

“White people dumplings,” Hyungwon explains, cutting one in half and dropping one half onto Hoseok’s plate, even going as far as to dab a little sour cream on top for him. 

Changkyun squints at them for a moment, before Kihyun kicks him in the shin under the table. Changkyun pouts in his direction, but Kihyun just stares stoically back at him. 

“Are you two  _ fucking though _ ?” Changkyun cries, defiantly ignoring Kihyun’s disappointed grandfather face, a pierogi speared on his fork, waving through the air like a baton.

Hyungwon and Hoseok open their mouths just as Minhyuk cries, “So what if we are?”

Jooheon shoves a balled up beer napkin into Minhyuk’s open mouth, effectively gagging him, but it’s too late. Changkyun squeals, pierogi launching itself from the end of his fork and onto the end of the table, in front of Hyunwoo. Hyunwoo looks up from his phone and sighs. 

“Are you _ texting my mom _ ?” Changkyun shrieks, rising to his feet hastily. Kihyun grabs his arm and drags him back down into his seat. 

“She and I had a bet on how this evening would go,” Hyunwoo answers. “Just letting her know I owe her twenty.”

“I’ll get back to you,” Changkyun grits out, before turning away from Hyunwoo to face Jooheon and Minhyuk. He jabs his empty fork in their direction. “Um. How  _ dare _ you?”

“You two have been fucking for months, Changkyun,” Jooheon whispers, trying to hang a napkin like a curtain to hide his face from the other restaurant patrons. 

“Uh huh,  _ and _ ?” 

Hoseok slides a twenty across the table at Hyungwon. Hyungwon smirks and pockets it.

“Did you two also have some kind of bet about this evening?”

Hoseok shakes his head, now-bleached and tinted blue hair falling disgustingly handsomely into his face. “No, I just thought Jooheon and Minhyuk had been fucking longer than you two. Hyungwon bet the opposite.”

“Changkyun is the most ruthless slut baby I’ve ever met,” Hyungwon says, shrugging. “And Minhyuk made his calendar public to the company accidentally one day a couple weeks ago.  _ First Honey Date _ was on there.” He turns to Minhyuk, voice riddled with condescension and empathy at once. “You should probably make a private calendar, by the way, boss.”

“Yeah but Minhyuk is so  _ thirsty _ ,” Hoseok whines. “I really thought I had them pinned as fucking.”

Jooheon looks like he’s two more swear words away from imploding, so Changkyun clears his throat and points his fork at Hoseok instead. 

“Speaking of  _ thirst _ ,” he says, “y’all are doing the do now, too?”

Hoseok grins at Hyungwon across the wood-lacquered table. “He’s the prettiest boy I’ve ever seen.”

Hyungwon grins back, and Changkyun grimaces. “Ew. Do you guys fuck while listening to Miguel...with full-eye-contact?” Hoseok continues gazing endearingly at Hyungwon. “Wait, don’t tell me. Please.”

“And he’s  _ met my parents _ ,” Hoseok stage-whispers, leaning across the table so Changkyun can hear him even better. Then he sits back and crosses his gigantic arms across his gigantic chest. The smug little doped-up rabbit.

“Well la-di-da,” Changkyun chirps, throwing his legs sideways over Kihyun’s lap where he sits beside him, nursing a hot toddy and some borscht. “Kihyun’s met my mom.”

“Who hasn’t met your mom, though?” Jooheon mumbles.

Hyungwon raises a hand, but Hoseok chimes in, “We did though. Together. Remember, at Hmart, in Flushing?”

Hyungwon drops his arm down and shoots Changkyun an apologetic grimace. “Oh, shit, you’re right. Nevermind. Sorry, man, we’ve all met your mom. Great lady, by the way. Bought us some winter melons.”

Changkyun sighs. “Commitment means different things to us, obviously.”

“Wearing hickeys in the shape of his initials on your inner thighs isn’t commitment, Changkyun,” Jooheon observes.

Changkyun bristles. “Why’m I being attacked right now?”

“Because you and Kihyun have been together for like six months now, and you’ve yet to call him your boyfriend out loud,” Hyunwoo says, scrolling through instagram and yawning behind his big tan hand. 

Changkyun grabs Kihyun by the cheeks. “Did you put them up to this?” 

Kihyun shakes his head and laughs. “Calm down, baby. I don’t care what you call me.”

“Liar. You totally put them up to this. Is this an intervention?” Changkyun glances around suspiciously. “Am I on TV? Hidden cameras?”

Kihyun grabs Changkyun in a mirrored position, his hands on Changkyun’s cheeks as Changkyun still cradles his face. “Changkyun, really. I don’t care what you call me. I know you’ll always come home to me at the end of the day.”

“But you want me to say it, don’t you?”

“Well, considering the fact that I can’t technically be your sugar daddy anymore, since you rarely let me buy you anything…”

“You bought me a TVXQ lightstick just the other day. That’s like  _ eighty US dollars _ \--”

“Changkyun.”

“I just! I would much rather call you my daddy than my b...my  _ buh _ …”

“Here he goes,” Jooheon sighs, pulling out his phone and opening Snapchat. 

“My buh. My boy. My fuh. Boy. Fuh.” Changkyun grips his hands into his hair and tugs. “I hate it! It’s gross! You’re not taking me to Junior Prom, Kihyun; you’re rigging me to your ceiling and wrecking my butthole with your dick.”

“Sometimes we play Scattergories and watch  _ Barefoot Contessa _ ,” Kihyun points out, a smirk playing at the corners of his pink lips.

“Yeah but--”

“And also we changed my delivery meal-plan box to be dairy-free recipes for your tummy,” Kihyun adds. 

“Yeah,  _ so _ ?”

“And also you’re moving into my place in a couple months, when your lease is up,” Kihyun says, and he’s full-on smirking now. The cocky shit. “I’m your boyfriend, Changkyun.”

“You!” Changkyun cries. “Are...not... _ not _ my boyfriend?”

Jooheon gives one very subdued golf clap. “That’s the best we’re gonna get, folks.”

Minhyuk giggles and pinches Jooheon’s cheek adoringly. “My clever Honey.”

Changkyun pretends to retch onto his plate. Kihyun pinches the bridge of his nose and shuts his eyes, willing away some kind of Changkyun-induced migraine. 

Hyunwoo suddenly holds up his phone, and Changkyun’s mother is on Facetime, smiling and waving in her waitress work uniform. “Say hi, everyone,” Hyunwoo exclaims, holding the phone aloft over the table.

“Hi, Changkyun’s mom!” everyone except Changkyun chimes at once in weirdly harmonious unison like some kind of parallel universe boyband. 

“Hello, boys! Oh, I’m so happy to see you all together like this. Such gorgeous, handsome boys. My Changkyunnie is so lucky to be surrounded by such handsome, successful men. You know when he was born, I was terrified because he came out with his father’s nose, but you know he grew into it pretty well, and then--”

Changkyun snatches the phone from Hyunwoo after practically clambering over the plates, one knee up on the tabletop, one foot on his chair. “Thank you for stopping in, Mom, but it’s rude to be on your phone in public like this, so we’re going to go! See you this weekend, bye!!!”

“Ok, bye, I lov--”

Changkyun drops back down in his seat, forehead smashing down onto the surface of the table. “I’m breaking up with all of you.”

“You’re only dating one of us, and you won’t even admit it,” Hyungwon says, eyeing his own cuticles.

“Listen, you amphibious piece of saltwater taffy,” Changkyun squawks. He’s about to launch into another poorly-worded insult when Kihyun wraps his fingers around the back of Changkyun’s neck and just lightly presses the tips of them into the skin there.

Changkyun freezes. His lips clamp shut, and his hands fold themselves neatly in his lap.

Hyunwoo is stunned. Changkyun doesn’t think he’s ever seen Hyunwoo make such an exaggerated expression, his red puffy lips in a comical ‘o.’ The table is silent. Everyone is looking at where Kihyun’s fingers meet Changkyun’s skin.

“Damn,” Hoseok breathes out after a moment. “I never got him to do that.”

“Me neither,” Hyunwoo says. 

Minhyuk cups his hand over his mouth, tilts toward Jooheon, and loudly whispers: “Which one is he again?”

“The brother,” Hyunwoo says, at the same time Changkyun says, “Took my virginity.”

Minhyuk nods slowly, hesitantly. “Sorry I asked.”

Jooheon pats Minhyuk’s hand where it rests on the tabletop. Sympathetic. Empathetic. Apologetic.

Changkyun rolls his eyes to the back of his head and slouches down in his seat. “I hate all of y’all.”

“At least you love Kihyun,” Hyunwoo adds, under his breath.

Changkyun balls up his napkin and chucks it at Hyunwoo’s face. It unravels from its ball form in mid-air and flutters down onto Hoseok’s plate, nowhere near Hyunwoo.

Hyunwoo quirks a brow. Changkyun throws his arms up in the air.

“ _ Fine _ ! I’ll meet his damn parents!!”

 

“Mom, Dad,” Kihyun says, shucking off his oxfords at the door and slipping into a pair of Rilakkuma house slippers, “this is Changkyun.”

Changkyun stands there in the doorway of their gorgeous Jersey home, fiddling with the hem of his sweater (that was neatly tucked in until he left the car and the nerves hit). 

Two very kind-looking elderly humans watch as Changkyun struggles to toe off his shoes without bending to untie them. He straightens up, swallows thickly, and blurts, “I’m the--Kihyun’s my  _ boyfriend _ !”

Kihyun’s parents exchange a confused and alarmed glance, but Kihyun just steps close, hooks an arm around Changkyun’s shoulders, and tugs him to his side. He presses a kiss to Changkyun’s cheek with a loud wet smacking noise. “That’s my baby.”

 

Kihyun picks Changkyun up on October 22nd at 7 am and drives him out to Murray Hill, in Queens. Changkyun hasn’t been back here in years. 

“It’s sad that the most grass in this city is always found in its cemeteries,” Changkyun mutters miserably, stepping over a few placards nearly eroded straight down into the earth, barely visible from above. 

“Long Island has grass,” Kihyun says, grabbing Changkyun’s hand, easy as breathing.

“I know,” Changkyun huffs. “Long Island is  _ barely _ the city.”

“But you live there now,” Kihyun says, sounding more and more smug by the moment. 

“Is this how you want to meet my brother for the first time?” Changkyun snips. “Hassling me about my excruciatingly difficult and bitterly regretful decision of moving in with you?”

Kihyun nods and shifts his grip, twining their fingers together. “Yes. He’d want the truth.”

“There are some things I’d wish to hide from him.”

“He’s in Heaven. We haven’t been able to hide anything from him,” Kihyun observes.

“Please don’t insinuate that my brother watches us do the dirty,” Changkyun whines, nearly tripping over a few sunken headstones before dropping down to his knees in front of his brother’s. He yanks Kihyun down to kneel beside him, and he touches his fingers to the part of the inscription that reads  _ Beloved son. Beloved brother.  _

“Yo,” Changkyun says, eyes up on the clouds that hang heavy and thick over their heads. Kihyun had checked the forecast. Rain after four pm, but they should be fine if they head out early. There are umbrellas in the car. It’s his birthday, after all, Kihyun had said.  

“Yo?” Kihyun repeats.

Changkyun shushes him and continues, “Yo, big B. I’m sorry I haven’t visited you. I’m a piece of shit--”

Kihyun elbows him in the ribs. Changkyun mewls angrily and rubs at the place of bony impact before continuing: “Sorry, sorry, I’m still learning to treat myself more gently. Anyhow, I brought someone with me today that I wish you could’a met when you were down here.” He gestures with a flourish. “This is Kihyun, and he’s my Daddy-Friend.”

Kihyun hangs his head and sighs. 

“Sorry.  _ Boyfriend _ . He’s annoying. But I wanted you to meet him because you’re the two dudes I love most in this world.”

“ _ Dudes _ .”

“We never really got to meet dad, and mom says he was kind of a garbage-sack, so I am just gonna ignore him as a possibility. Hyunwoo’s in there too, in the list of dudes I love. He misses you, by the way. And he’s still hovering over me constantly, so I hope you’re happy. I’ll never get to do cocaine now. I’ve passed the threshold of  _ it was just a dumb decision _ . And, well, Kihyun’s a good guy, too. You would’ve really liked him if you met. He makes sure I take my allergy meds, and he always has wet wipes for when I make a mess of myself, and he makes a  _ mean _ hamburger macaroni. And, like, I don’t know.” Changkyun squeezes Kihyun’s hand and lets a moment of quiet calmness settle over them. “We have killer sex.”

Kihyun slaps a hand over Changkyun’s mouth and lifts his eyes up to the clouds. “Hey, Hanbin. This is Kihyun talking now. I just want you to know that I adore your brother very much, and I promise to take care of him. You don’t have to worry about him choking on popcorn chicken or burning his place down with scented candles when he tries to mix scents. I’m gonna look out for him.”

Changkyun’s heart swells up to press hard against his ribs like a balloon seeking to escape it’s rubber prison. 

“He’s a dumbass baby, but I’ve got him now, so don’t worry.”

 

When they get home, Kihyun lays Changkyun down on their new king-size bed and touches his lips to Changkyun’s sternum like he’s never touched it before and might never again. 

“I keep thinking about my brother watching us now, you freak,” Changkyun hisses, turning his face to the side as Kihyun kisses down the tan column of his throat. He parts his legs and wraps them around Kihyun’s middle, arching up into Kihyun’s bare skin and digging his ankles into Kihyun’s lower back to get their bodies pressed as flush together as possible. 

“You talk too much,” Kihyun says, slipping the soft silicone ball gag between Changkyun’s parted lips and latching it behind his head. He traces the line of Changkyun’s upper lip where it’s spread around the ball. “Just let me take care of you without being barraged by criticisms for once.”

Changkyun makes an indignant gurgle behind the gag and jabs his heels harder into Kihyun’s spine. “‘Us Uck ‘e, an’it.”

“I have no idea what that was supposed to be, but I’m gonna pretend it was praise,” Kihyun replies, grabbing Changkyun’s legs and throwing them over his shoulders before tugging the plug free from Changkyun’s body without a moment’s notice. Changkyun whimpers and ruts down towards Kihyun’s hand as he runs his fingertips over the puffy, swollen outline of his hole.

“Shhh,” Kihyun says, fucking into Changkyun in one smooth, hard motion, “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

Changkyun rakes his nails down Kihyun’s bare back and ruts up as much as he can to meet Kihyun’s thrusts. Kihyun halts the motion of his hips, and Changkyun feels the absence of movement like a swift kick to the part of his body that houses his Soul.

Kihyun reaches over Changkyun’s head, under one of the massive down-alternative pillows, and grabs one of his abandoned silk ties. “Here’s how this is gonna go, baby. I’m gonna take away your sight. I’ve taken away your voice. You’re gonna feel everything, and you’re gonna feel it harder than you’ve ever let yourself feel anything at all.”

The silk knots behind Changkyun’s head, and the room goes black. Kihyun’s still buried deep inside him, just this sweet aching stretch. 

Kihyun’s lips at his throat, Kihyun’s sharp hip bones snapping once against the backs of Changkyun’s thighs, Kihyun’s cock dragging over his walls with slick friction that echoes in his bones.

“Pretty boy,” Kihyun coos, bending Changkyun in on himself and rocking his hips at a torturous pace that has Changkyun’s eyelids sweating. Kihyun’s hands are on Changkyun’s cheeks, thumbs brushing delicate and sweet from the apple of Changkyun’s cheeks down his jaw, down his throat, down, down. 

Changkyun’s skin feels tight. Like he’s being vacuum-sealed from the inside, all of him compressing into just a tiny mass of heat where his and Kihyun’s skin meets in the tight wet everything.

“My beautiful, beautiful boy,” Kihyun says, voice raspy and high and sugary like smoked maple candy. “I want you to finally let go. Please, just finally let it all go.”

Kihyun’s hand touches to Changkyun’s throat, and he presses on the veins there until Changkyun’s throat fills with purple and the blood in his mouth is hot blueberry syrup so warm and thick that he feels himself drowning.

“That’s it,” Kihyun says, voice coming from somewhere in Changkyun’s blood. Kihyun finds Changkyun’s prostate again and again and again, and each time Changkyun counts each burst of pleasure in his skull without realizing. “Stop thinking. I can feel you thinking. Let  _ go _ , baby. Let go.”

Changkyun’s hands drop to the bed, limp, his whole body drooping like Kihyun is the only thing animating him.

“You are perfect, Changkyun,” Kihyun says. “You are everything, and you are perfect. You are gorgeous and kind and silly and every time you move I can’t help but watch you. And I have glass doors on my office. How’m I ever supposed to stop myself from looking?”

Changkyun doesn’t know if he’s really absorbing the meaning of Kihyun’s words so much as letting the words skim over his body like so many loving pairs of hands. Like Kihyun’s voice is cradling his body in this space between.

He tries to say  _ I want to cum.  _

And then  _ It hurts. And I need you to touch me _ .

And then  _ Where did you come from and how do I make sure you never ever go away _ ?

And finally  _ Oh, God, I do. I love, love, love, love-- _

There’s a humming in his ear canals, and it sings in his blood, and it rings through his body like pulses of bright yolky sunlight.

Changkyun invites the heat of Kihyun’s skin into his body and welcomes his voice and lets Kihyun take over everything. 

At some point one of Kihyun’s hands finds Changkyun’s cock as the other finds one of Changkyun’s hands and squeezes. And this is it. The moment when Changkyun returns to his body hard, crying out behind the ball gag in a weird amalgamation of pleasure and catharsis, and slamming down into his own flesh like he’s making a new home. 

And afterward, when Kihyun pulls the silk from in front of his eyes and releases the gag from between his lips, Changkyun clutches his arms around the soft, vulnerable middle of his own body and sobs. Kihyun kisses him and kisses him and says  _ I’m so proud, baby, I love you; I’m so proud. Thank you. _

And the two of them lay there, panting up at the ceiling of their shared room, hands held between their bodies for what feels like hours but is probably less than fifteen minutes. Kihyun squeezes Changkyun’s hand.

“Thank you for trusting me.”

Changkyun shakes his head. “Thank you for being someone I can trust. I, uh, I really love you.”

Kihyun leans in and touches his lips to Changkyun’s scarred cheek. “You deserve this, Changkyun. All of it.”

Changkyun pulls his pillow down from the headboard and tucks it under his chin before dragging Kihyun closer with an arm hooked around the narrow part of Kihyun’s waist. Kihyun’s body aligns itself against Changkyun’s, and Changkyun lets himself sink into the familiar sensation of skin and warmth. 

“I know.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	6. Epilogue: Jooheon x Minhyuk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I'm gonna be real with you guys...  
> this is fluff. Cotton candy fluff. I don't even know what to say. I'm sorry.

Minhyuk knows he’s dreaming because his parents are here. His mom, with her sun-kissed wrinkles and her big floppy sun hat; his dad, in his baggy polo shirt with the off-brand patch peeling off and cargo pants. They’re at the beach, probably Ocean City, one of the beaches with thick dark stones mixed in with golden sand, sharp shells always getting caught under your heels, and water so brown and murky that only brave children with water-socks on their feet are willing to step in. 

He knows he’s dreaming because his parents should be back in Korea, where they’ve always been, even when he left them, declaring himself too good for Gwangju, for the knockoff brand shirts and soondae stands swarmed by flies in the humid summer air. 

And the crowning moment here in this dream--the realest, truest reason Minhyuk knows he’s dreaming: Jooheon is here. 

Jooheon, sitting between Minhyuk’s legs on his parents’ beach blanket, smiling and bright with skin warm as honey beneath Minhyuk’s fingertips. Jooheon, shirtless and soft and tan in the summer sunlight and prettier than anything Minhyuk’s ever seen. He’s got a pale strip where his Apple watch normally sits on his wrist, and for some reason Minhyuk finds that strip so undeniably kissable. 

He pulls dream Jooheon’s wrist to his lips, unable to deny himself the way he does in the real world. Dream Jooheon turns his head and catches Minhyuk’s lips with his own, and Minhyuk feels like he’s really there, he’s really breathing in the air from Jooheon’s lungs, when his alarm cuts in and shocks him back into life.

 

Monday morning, and Minhyuk watches as Changkyun waltzes into Kihyun’s office like the walls and door aren’t made of glass and the entire office isn’t watching them make out behind Kihyun’s standing desk. Minhyuk sighs with something close to jealousy, until Jooheon rushes into the office with his americano and flushed cheeks.

He’s always so adorably flustered, plush cheeks and nose a rosy pink from running to make it into Minhyuk’s office at exactly 9 am every single workday. 

Minhyuk accepts the coffee and takes a sip.

And, like always, Jooheon has slipped in two splendas and a hint of cinnamon, because Minhyuk likes to pretend he doesn’t like sweet things. 

“Come to dinner with me,” Minhyuk says, hiding a bit behind the black paper cup. 

Jooheon looks down at his Apple watch, probably searching his schedule (Minhyuk’s schedule, because Jooheon’s schedule is Minhyuk’s schedule), but Minhyuk cuts in with: “No, Jooheon. Hey, look at me. Dinner. You and me. As friends.”

Jooheon doesn’t look up from his watch, like he’s searching for the answers there on that little bright screen. “Uh, if that’s...I mean, sure, yes, Sir, of course, I--”

“Honey,” Minhyuk sighs, placing his cup down gently. “Look at me.”

Jooheon finally flickers his gaze up. It’s nervous, closed-off. Minhyuk feels a part of him pull tight.

“Let me thank you. For everything.”

Jooheon smiles down at his perfectly polished faux leather oxfords, and Minhyuk feels his own smile growing wider. His Jooheon, always so sweet. Always working so hard. There’s something like pride unfurling its little wings in Minhyuk’s core, and Minhyuk has no other explanation for the fluttering against his rib cage.

Jooheon isn’t really his. 

 

Minhyuk is: sick.

He knew it was a mistake, giving Jooheon his coat and his umbrella after dinner. But Jooheon had to walk to the R train to head into Queens, and Minhyuk’s walk was significantly shorter.

Or, it was supposed to be. Before Minhyuk arrived at the F train and found it wasn’t running until Tuesday morning, and then he was walking to the E train. Only a couple avenues, a couple blocks. In the torrential rain. In the wind. Flash flood warning.

But Jooheon was warm and dry and that was what Minhyuk wanted.

And now Minhyuk is swollen with sickness for the first time in years.  _ Years _ . Minhyuk never gets sick. His body is like a perfect well-oiled machine, always ready to go, ready to work, ready to play. Always. 

But Minhyuk is sick. He’d been drenched the entire train ride downtown, with the train’s air conditioning blasting over his soaking wet clothing, his chilled skin. 

Jooheon shows up on time again, americano in hand, and Minhyuk could cry. Just the sight of Jooheon has Minhyuk’s sickness-addled brain feeling like he’s finally found relief. 

There’s a mound of tissues on Minhyuk’s desk, and Jooheon stops, hand extended with Minhyuk’s coffee. 

“What?” Minhyuk asks, nose clogged, sinuses somehow exponentially more clogged, throat rough with coughs. 

“You…” Jooheon starts, sounding unsure. “You’re sick?”

Minhyuk waves the comment away. “Just a cold. It’s fine.”

“Is this from this weekend?”

“No, no it’s just a seasonal thing. Seriously, Honey, don’t--” Minhyuk breaks off with a round of wheezing coughs, the kinds that rattle in your lungs. 

Jooheon puts the coffee down on the edge of Minhyuk’s desk and leans over to press the back of his cool hand to Minhyuk’s forehead. The touch feels almost too much like coming home, and Minhyuk tries not to lean into it too much. 

“I’m telling everyone you’re leaving,” Jooheon says, straightening up. 

“Jooheon, I’m fine. Don’t bother. Seriously. Just go get your work done. I’ll be fine. I don’t even have that much on the schedule today, right?”

Jooheon consults the Apple watch for a moment before tentatively nodding. “Please let me know if I can--”

“Don’t worry, Honey. Honestly,” Minhyuk says, raising a hand like a promise. 

Jooheon steps out of Minhyuk’s office to find his own desk, and Minhyuk feels his eyelids sinking down, his head heavy with phlegm and exhaustion. 

For an hour or so, Minhyuk really does get things done. He writes out a few press releases for CNBC, for Forbes, for the New York Daily News. He’ll send them to Jooheon for proofing before emailing them out, but for now Minhyuk will just…

Just take a little rest. 

Alittlebreak.

Justasecondandthen.

“Minhyuk,” Jooheon says, rushed, panicked. He’s squatting beside where Minhyuk has apparently fallen out of his office chair onto the area rug, curled up like a small desert lizard beneath a large stone under his desk. “Jesus, Minhyuk. You’re burning up. I’m telling Kihyun you’re leaving.”

Minhyuk tries to lift his hand, wave Jooheon away like he always does, but his body won’t cooperate. Everything is heavy, sinking. Minhyuk is circling the drain of his own body. Imploding inward. 

The next thing Minhyuk is aware of is his body being maneuvered into an Uber, Kihyun’s voice exasperatedly saying, “Leave it to Minhyuk Lee to cause such a ruckus on a Monday morning.”

Jooheon squeezes into the backseat with Minhyuk, and Minhyuk collapses against his shoulder, feeling the softness and the muscle tight beneath it. 

Jooheon uses his copy of Minhyuk’s apartment key to get them both inside, and he greets Minhyuk’s doorman. Minhyuk imagines a scenario where Jooheon doesn’t greet James the Doorman because he’s often at the building to get Minhyuk’s dry cleaning or forgotten paperwork, but because he lives there. There, with Minhyuk. In his home. 

Their home.

It’s a nice dream. Another nice dream. 

Jooheon holds MInhyuk steady in the elevator up to Minhyuk’s place on the 18th floor and gets them both inside, his arm hooked around Minhyuk’s waist. 

Minhyuk feels like a child, toddling about on unsteady limbs, grasping tightly to Jooheon’s button-down shirt the way that child would grip his parents’ hands for safety. The way his mother and grandfather would hold him on the pier by the fishing boats, and Minhyuk would jump, trusting them to keep him upright. 

Jooheon moves around Minhyuk’s apartment easily, familiar with it like its his own, and Minhyuk’s heart gives a sharp tug again. 

“Honey, it’s fine,” MInhyuk huffs, eyes leaking from exhaustion and the pain of speaking. “Go back to work.”

“Kihyun told me I could stay.”

“Kihyun’s not your boss. I am.”

“You’re not working today, so I defer to Kihyun,” Jooheon protests, guiding Minhyuk to his couch and helping him lay down with his head propped up against all the pillows. Jooheon drapes him in all three of the fleece throws he keeps on his living room furniture, and Minhyuk hates to admit he feels better beneath the Neapolitan blend of brown white and pale pink fleece. 

“I’m ordering soup from the deli around the corner. You want matzo ball or minestrone?”

“Matzo ball,” Minhyuk rasps, wincing as his voice grates against the inside of his delicate throat. 

Jooheon steps into Minhyuk’s kitchen, puts on the kettle, bustling around and ordering soup. Minhyuk relaxes back against the pillows, allows himself to live in this fantasy where Jooheon is his, Jooheon is his and takes care of him.

Minhyuk passes out again. 

When his saggy eyelids finally peel open again, Jooheon is kneeling beside the couch, blowing on a spoonful of soup. “Open,” he says.

Minhyuk wants to make a crude joke so he can watch Jooheon flush the way he always does, but instead he just parts his lips and lets Jooheon tip the soup back into his throat. It’s quiet, with only the sound of Jooheon’s breath for a few minutes, and Minhyuk’s throat finally feels well enough for him to say, “How did I get the best assistant in the whole universe?”

Jooheon ducks his head down and shrugs, scraping the bottom of the tub of soup for the last couple drops. “I just know you well. It’s been a while now.”

“Do you?”

“Hm?” 

“Do you know me well?” 

Jooheon looks up then. His face is so soft, so sweet. Minhyuk wants to know what it would feel like to press his lips to that smooth skin. “Of course I do,” Jooheon says, and Minhyuk notes he sounds annoyed. “I know what time you wake up in the morning, including all the times your alarms are set for. All six of them. I know what time you go to sleep at night. I know that at 2:15 every day, you reserve the third conference room so you can take a nap or play Minecraft until 3 pm. I know that you tried to get an emotional support dog license so your building would allow you to adopt that janky-looking australian shepherd mix you saw a couple weeks ago. I know you claim to be a Foodie but your favorite food is boxed macaroni and cheese because that’s all you ate when you first moved here. You make it with twice the butter and cashew milk. I know, I know who you date. I know who you sleep with. I’ve escorted one night stands from your apartment at 7 on a Sunday morning so we could go meet Jan from the engineering team at the tech startup expo. I know you inside and out. I know more about you than anyone.”

Minhyuk’s breath wheezes out of him. “Oh, Honey.”

Jooheon stands suddenly, his fingers tight around the soup cup. “Sorry. That was rude. I shouldn’t have--”

“Honey,” Minhyuk sighs, reaching for Jooheon, but Jooheon is too far and Minhyuk’s limbs are too weak, too heavy around his bones. 

“Honey, wait, I--”

“I’m going to run back to the office for a bit. Just sleep, okay? And text me if you need something.”

And then Minhyuk is alone again.

Alone and drifting in and out of sleep for what feels like days. Everything is hazy, but of course Jooheon is there. Bare in the dim lamplight, brown hair loose on Minhyuk’s white satin pillowcase. Smiling in the way that pulls his cheeks up high and warms his brown eyes even when it’s snowing out. Smiling in the way that leaves Minhyuk breathless always. 

In college, Minhyuk had been reckless. He’d been newly American, newly American  _ youth _ , newly American  _ college _ youth, and everything had been blurry and wild and chaotic. He’d met a boy at a bar where boys could meet boys at bars, and then said boy’s boyfriend had arrived and heaved his sharp knee right up into Minhyuk’s stomach. All the air squeezed from Minhyuk’s lungs like a deflating air mattress being stomped on to press the last bits of air free.

Jooheon sometimes makes Minhyuk feel that way. Just looking at him. Like this, here in his dream, even. 

Jooheon, curled on his side, his stomach scrunched up like a pale little hot dog bun, his arms wrapped around his own skin to hide himself. Minhyuk moves on top of him, rolls him onto his back, grips his wrists and pins them to the mattress. Jooheon goes easily, pliant beneath him, and Minhyuk wonders if he’ll ever be able to compare them. Real Jooheon and this Jooheon.

Dream Jooheon smiles again, laughing high and joyful, and Minhyuk presses their lips together. 

And, like always, Minhyuk wakes up before Dream Jooheon can give himself to him. Like his unconscious mind knows that would be too far. Much too far.

 

Minhyuk goes on another date. And another. And another. Jooheon schedules his Ubers, his restaurant reservations, his hotels because Minhyuk doesn’t bring one night stands to his apartment anymore. 

There’s one night when Minhyuk has three whiskey gingers at dinner before he takes the guy back to the hotel, and Minhyuk has to squint to even find anything sexually appealing about the guy--he’s rail thin, arms like uncooked spaghetti, and why would Minhyuk want to fuck someone who looks like him?--and he doesn’t get it up. He can’t. Ten to fifteen minutes of foreplay, of sloppy but not unpleasurable head, and Minhyuk is still soft. Maybe even more soft than when they started.

This has never happened to him before. This odd feeling like his body is betraying him, but it’s probably not his body at all. Probably runs deeper than that. 

The guy thanks Minhyuk for dinner and leaves in a disappointed huff, and Minhyuk doesn’t blame him. What an ego blow. 

Because fucking Minhyuk has always been easy as cracking an egg. Just the slightest touch, and he’d open up, bare himself, let go.

So this is...this is certainly a problem. 

 

Everything finally shatters the day Kihyun tells Minhyuk he and Changkyun are officially dating.

“But that’s...not  _ fair _ .”

“What are you talking about?” Kihyun counters, straightening his tie in the reflection of the glass door. 

“How can you...if  _ I _ …”

“No one is stopping you, Minhyuk. Seriously, get it the fuck together and just tell him you like him.”

Minhyuk shakes his head the way you would if your ear canals were flooded with pool water. Kihyun slaps both his palms to Minhyuk’s chest, shoves him a little. 

“If you don’t tell him, I’m gonna have Changkyun tell Jooheon anyway. One of you needs to do something to break this tension. It’s fucked up.”

Minhyuk’s insides scrunch up real tight. “I don’t know  _ how _ .”

“Like you haven’t pictured it a thousand times in your head, you fucking dumbass,” Kihyun sighs, walking back to his own office.

 

Minhyuk puts an event in his calendar. 

First, he names it BUSY.

Then, just a couple days beforehand, changes it to AWAY: TBD. 

Then, it’s that Friday. Friday, August 18, and it’s swelteringly hot. The subways are dripping with condensation and smell like bananas left out in the sun to rot and melt. Minhyuk clips his fringe back from his forehead until he’s safely in the office, safely in the air conditioning. 

Jooheon has arrived to the office before him, clearly unnerved by the rare event that he has no knowledge of prior.

“Minhyuk, what’s--”

“Close the door, Jooheon,” Minhyuk says. 

Jooheon does. Slowly, hesitantly. 

“Am I in trouble?” Jooheon seems to whimper.

Minhyuk steps in closer, until he’s just a foot away from Jooheon’s body, visibly thrumming with nervous energy. “No, you’re not in trouble. I’m giving you the day off.”

Jooheon looks around, like he’s looking for prank cameras. Ashton Kutcher. Ellen Degeneres. 

“You and I are gonna go somewhere. Is that okay?”

Jooheon nods because he would never say no to Minhyuk. Which makes Minhyuk feel a little guilty, but he needs to get them out of the office so he can finally get up the nerve to say everything.

At Penn Station, Jooheon starts to look more than just a little nervous. “What’s going on, Minhyuk?”

“We’re going to the beach,” Minhyuk says, shoving his credit card into the ticket machine and selecting two one-way tickets to Asbury Park. At seeing Jooheon’s extremely panicked expression, he changes them to round trip.

“We don’t have bathing suits or towels or--”

“We’ll buy them there. We’re being spontaneous.”

“We should go back to work, we should, um?”

“Honey, I’m a shareholder of like 10% of the entire company. I can have a day to take my assistant to the beach.”

Jooheon takes his ticket and tucks it into the pants of his black slacks. His hair is matted to his forehead, and Minhyuk reaches over to brush the sweaty strands away from his face. 

“Gotta make sure I get sunscreen for your precious baby skin.”

Jooheon doesn’t reply.

In fact, Jooheon doesn’t speak the entire 2 hour train ride to Asbury Park.

It isn’t until Minhyuk is gesturing Jooheon into the Aloha Beaches surf shop and telling him to buy a swimsuit, when Jooheon says: “I don’t wear swimsuits.”

Minhyuk stands there for a moment, holding out his credit card. “What do you mean?”

Jooheon rolls his gaze down to his abdomen. “You know. I don’t do swimwear. I don’t do shirtlessness in public. I’m barely shirtless in my own home.”

“But  _ why _ ,” Minhyuk all but whines.

Jooheon looks like he wishes he were literally anywhere but in front of Minhyuk in a surf shop at the beach. Minhyuk’s plan is backfiring hard, and he doesn’t understand why.

“Because I’m a literal human potato,” Jooheon says, laughing to ease some of the tension. 

“I love potatoes,” Minhyuk blurts before bolting to the sunscreen section to hide in shame.

They meet back up at the register, Jooheon holding a pair of plain red swim trunks and a black rash guard. 

“Jooheon,” Minhyuk says.

“Please.”

“Fine,” Minhyuk huffs, paying for Jooheon’s glorified baby shirt.

Minhyuk buys two beach towels and a beach blanket, carting everything under his arms like the idea of Jooheon carrying anything personally offends him, even when Jooheon holds his arms out in offering.They change in the public restroom and tuck their office clothes into the plastic bags from the surf shop.

Minhyuk claims a spot by the lifeguard stand because the only thing Minhyuk knows of American beaches is that you should always be near a lifeguard. 

“I’ve never been to the beach before. Here, I mean,” Minhyuk admits, dropping his shoes down onto the corners of the blanket so the wind won’t blow it out of place. 

“My family used to come when I was little.”

“I know,” Minhyuk says. “I remember you telling me about it here. About how they’d do jazz concerts sometimes in the summer and your children’s church choir performed here, and you had a solo and rapped the Halellujah chorus. About your grandfather liking the way the hotdogs always tasted like saltwater. About the sand in your teeth.”

Jooheon flushes and looks down at the pasty skin of his legs. “I didn’t realize you paid that much attention.”

Minhyuk’s brows tug together. “What, you think I pay you to know everything about me, but I never learn anything about you in return?”

Jooheon shrugs, leaning back on his hands and tipping his face up to the sun. “I guess so.”

“Honey,” Minhyuk sighs in exasperation. 

Jooheon looks down at his watch. Hiding. 

Well two people can play this game. 

Minhyuk grabs his phone and sends him a message that reads LOOK AT ME JOOHEON.

Jooheon looks up, swallows so Minhyuk can see the muscles in his throat moving.

Minhyuk types again, thumbs moving blindly over the screen. I WANTED TO GET US OUT OF THE OFFICE FOR A REASON. 

Jooheon doesn’t speak, just holds his wrist close to his face. The pale hairs on his forearms are sticking straight up despite the heat. 

IN A COUPLE WEEKS I WON’T BE YOUR BOSS ANYMORE.

Jooheon flicks his gaze away and then back. “Did Kihyun tell you about the--”

IT’S OK. IT’S GOOD. IT’S FINE.

Jooheon panics. Babbles: “Minhyuk, stop typing and talk to me. I’m sorry I didn’t ask you first. I just...I need a change. I love SevenX. I love working for you. Working with you. It’s been the best experience, but I need to get away, I need to--”

I LIKE YOU, JOOHEON.

Jooheon makes a sound like a choked-off bird screech. “What? You? This isn’t some joke, Minhyuk, I--”

Minhyuk reaches out and grabs Jooheon’s wrist, tugging him close. He swiftly unlatches the watch, lets it fall to the blanket. “I’ve been a complete shit, Jooheon. Truly, completely. Just the worst kind of shit. Haven’t I?”

Jooheon just nods, sniffling a little, trying to tuck his face into his own shoulder to hide it. 

“I’m glad you’re leaving so I don’t have to be your boss anymore. But I want you in my life. I like you so much, Jooheon. I like you so much it physically pains me to watch you leave every day. I like you more than...I just like you so fucking much.”

Jooheon whimpers a little. “But you--all those dates. And Jeonghan. And you are  _ Minhyuk Lee _ .”

“Jeonghan spent the night of the Offsite listening to me drunkenly warble about all the reasons I want to kiss you but can’t, Jooheon,” Minhyuk explains. 

“Me?” Jooheon repeats incredulously. “You really want to kiss me?”

Minhyuk nods, and finally brings Jooheon’s wrist to his lips. It isn’t pale under a summer tan, but it is warm and smells like sweet and salty sunblock. “I want to do a lot of things to you, Jooheon.”

Jooheon’s whole body quakes like there’s a tide swelling up under his skin. “I want you to do those things.”

Minhyuk’s hands feel itchy. His palms are sweaty against Jooheon’s neck as he tugs him close, and just feeling the weight of Jooheon’s body so close has Minhyuk releasing an embarrassing groan. “You feel so good. I knew it. I knew you would.”

“Kiss me, God, Minhyuk please kiss me.”

Minhyuk pulls, hands scrambling at Jooheon’s back, just pulling and pulling and reeling Jooheon into his orbit until Jooheon’s warm thighs are bracketing his own and Jooheon is in his lap, eager and warm and smelling like summer sunlight.

“Yeah, of course, yeah,” Minhyuk breathes, and it’s like everything he ever wanted.

 

Minhyuk rents a double bed room in the nearest beach motel, and everything is covered in seashell motif and stock photos of shovels and pails and beach umbrellas. 

Jooheon is dripping from the last-minute race into the waves to clear off the sand from their bodies. Minhyuk can’t wait to peel the wet spandex shirt from his body, but Jooheon suddenly gets nervous again.

“Minhyuk, I--you should know I’m not much to look at,” Jooheon says, reaching to turn off all the lights. 

Minhyuk strides over and flicks them all back on. “No you don’t. I’ve waited over a year to see you. Please let me see you.”

“But,” Jooheon squeaks. 

“Jooheon, you know I find you completely devastatingly beautiful, right?”

Jooheon coughs behind his palm and shakes his head. “I...wasn't aware of that, no. But your type.The type you’re always going out with.”

“There’s a reason I haven’t stuck with any of them. Jooheon,  _ fuck _ , I’ve never wanted anything on this god-given earth as badly as I want you.” He pounds his fist against his solar plexus. “I feel it goddamn  _ always _ . This palpable ache in my bone marrow like I’m being hollowed out by carpenter ants. So,  _ please _ , believe me when I say that whatever it is you  _ think _ you look like to me, you are entirely incorrect in every way possible.”

Jooheon’s breath catches, and he falls into Minhyuk’s arms, and they’re kissing again. Jooheon’s mouth is small and plush and tastes like salt and the cheap coffee from the train station. Minhyuk eases him back a bit and runs his fingertips under the hem of the rash guard. 

“Don’t panic, but I’m going to take this off you now,” Minhyuk says, feeling Jooheon tensing up beneath his hands. “How can I make you less nervous, Honey?”

“I don’t know.”

“How did you picture it?”

Jooheon splutters, “What?”

“In your head, when you saw us together, were you nervous like this?”

Jooheon, flushed with hair dripping onto the plush apples of his cheeks, shakes his head. “No, not at all. You were, um?”

“I was what?”

“You were in control?” Jooheon breathes, and Minhyuk’s stomach bursts into flames.

“Oh,  _ Honey _ ,” Minhyuk sighs, tugging Jooheon’s shirt over his head easily and throwing it aside, where it lands on the carpet with a soft  _ slurch _ . He presses Jooheon back until his spine bows and hits the mattress, and then Minhyuk has his hands fisted in wet swim trunks. And then they’re on the floor in a sopping heap, and Jooheon doesn’t even have a reaction until Minhyuk’s lips find Jooheon’s sternum. 

He shivers.

A big, full-bodied shiver.

Minhyuk drinks it in deeply, committing every goosebump, every shivery shake of breath from between Jooheon’s pink lips to memory. 

“Hands over your head, Honey,” Minhyuk says, sitting back on his haunches over Jooheon’s thighs, just staring in awe at all of Jooheon’s body laid bare for him. Like some kind of Renaissance sculpture, all soft curving lines and dimpled flesh.

He feels like the deflated air mattress again. Like his body has emptied out all air and swelled up instead with blood, pulsing and singing in his veins. He feels alive. That limp emptiness that he felt when stripping strangers naked on plush hotel beds--this feeling is the complete opposite. He feels so full. Full to bursting.

“C’mere, please,” Jooheon pleads, but he holds still. Obedient. 

Minhyuk commits that as memory, too. 

“I want to look at you. I’ve been picturing this in my goddamn dreams since your third week working for me,” 

“Fuck,” Jooheon gasps, arching up, his chest flushed down to the clavicles, his nipples reddish pink and hard in the air-conditioned room. “ _ Minhyuk _ , please.”

“God I love the way you say that.”

“Please?”

“No, my name. All of it. Everything. I love it,” Minhyuk says, leaning in to work his lips over every inch of skin he can reach, letting his lips translate the skin into words in his brain, into a map for next time. “I love all of it. I love everything you do. The way you schedule time to go to the bathroom when I’m not busy. The way you call your mom for her kimchi recipe while we’re on a conference call because the woman at Old Navy asked for one. The way you smile at babies on the street until they smile back.

“Are you gonna fuck me, though?” Jooheon breathes quietly.

Minhyuk sits back again. “Do you want me to fuck you?”

Jooheon gives a short nod.

Minhyuk is nearly bowled over by the power of a tiny gesture. 

“You haven’t looked at my dick once, Minhyuk, and frankly it’s making me a little nervous.”

“Oh, shit, I swear I just forgot.”

“You  _ forgot _ to look at my dick?”

“I was distracted!”

“By my chin fat, right?”

“By the fact that you’re  _ glowing _ . God, Jooheon, you’re so pretty I could die. I could really drop dead right now and be fine with it. I’ve seen all I need to see of the world. Eiffel Tower, who? How many wonders of the world can compare to Jooheon Lee’s buck ass naked body on a New Jersey motel bed?”

Jooheon gives a short little puff of laughter and shakes a little, arching up so Minhyuk can feel that he’s hard. “Please touch me. I’ve waited so long too.”

“Oh, you...you have?”

Jooheon shakes his head incredulously against the sheets. “Jesus, Minhyuk, are you kidding? You think I would’ve stayed at this job if I wasn’t absolutely-fucking-bonkers, head-over-goddamn-heels in love with you?”

Minhyuk pauses, lips against Jooheon’s left nipple. “You what now?”

Jooheon shakes beneath him, struggling like a small woodland creature trapped in a cage, and Minhyuk presses his palms into Jooheon’s shoulders coaxing him to relax again. “Hey, hey, shhh. Stop that. I just want to clarify that we were both madly in love and restraining ourselves for the sake of work propriety.”

Jooheon, distress and awe plain as day in his gorgeously expressive features, nods again. “Uh, yes. That appears to be correct...Sir.”

Minhyuk’s spine tingles. The way it does during a quiet scene in a movie. In the scenes where water is running in an empty room. In the scenes where the only sounds are whispers under breath or the slide of a box from a shelf.

“Fuck,” he says, laughing at himself. “I want to fuck you so badly, Jooheon Lee. But I also want to do this right. I want to take you on proper dates. I want to send flowers to your desk anonymously even though you’ll know they’re from me. I want to kiss you under the stupid arch in Washington Square Park.”

Jooheon, eyes glassy, gives a weak agreeing nod. “But you’ll...you’ll still touch me, right?”

“Oh, my sweet Honeybee, I don’t plan on stopping anytime soon.”

Jooheon is indescribable. 

Like all the dreams Minhyuk has had, he’s sweet and malleable and his flesh dimples beneath Minhyuk’s hands like it would allow Minhyuk to completely cave him in. 

When Minhyuk puts Jooheon’s cock between his lips, Jooheon gasps and shudders and fists his hands into Minhyuk’s hair like its a rock-climbing handhold. 

When Minhyuk gets Jooheon on top of him, it’s a revelation. It’s a revolution. It’s a resolution. It’s everything. Jooheon’s hips under Minhyuk’s hands as Jooheon holds their cocks together, warm slick skin against warm slick skin. Jooheon rocking into the sensation like he can’t control the motion of his own body anymore. 

Jooheon, head tipped back, throat bare and hair loose and wild in his face. His hands braced on Minhyuk--one on his chest, the other on his left thigh. 

Jooheon, gasping and rutting down and shaking until he looks fit to break apart.

Jooheon, real and alive in Minhyuk’s hands. Jooheon kissing his nose because it’s all he can reach after coming, breathing Minhyuk’s name, and collapsing onto his bare chest with a relieved sigh and another round of full-bodied shivers.

“God,” Minhyuk says, carding his hands through Jooheon’s hair to smooth it away from his face. “You’re a goddamn dream, Jooheon Lee.” 

  
  
  



End file.
